Fall To Grace
by sdbubbles
Summary: Serena Campbell expects to forget where she put things. She expects to have clumsy accidents. She expects some people to loathe her. She just doesn't expect to feel what she does.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't know why I wrote this, really. Probably because of the mind-numbing boredom that comes with being too ill to go to college. Hopefully it turned out OK.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena was crawling around the office, looking under the desk, under units, under her chair...even in the bin. Where the hell had it got to? She proceeded to scour Ric's side, not bothering to stand up just to bend over again. She crawled around, trying to think what could have happened to her necklace. She remembered taking it off to go into theatre. Beyond that, she was hopeless.

She sighed, resigned to the fact she was destined to be on her elbows and knees until she, or someone else, found it. "For Christ's sake," she groaned to herself. "I'm going to have to keep that thing glued to my body."

She was hopeless when it came to her jewellery. The number of times she'd lost her watch and necklace under the mountains of paperwork in her office was unbelievable. She had a habit of taking it off for theatre and forgetting what she'd done with it, especially when said theatre time was unexpected and of the life or death variety. Her jewellery tended to be the last thing on her mind.

"Would you happen to be searching for this?" a deep voice asked from behind her. She jumped and hit her head on the corner of Ric's desk. "Ugh!" she shouted. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath, referring to both herself and the person who caused her to start. She climbed up onto her knees, peering over the desk at the tall man before her.

Henrik Hanssen had her necklace dangling from his index finger, and he looked oddly pleased with himself. "Where did you find it?" she sighed.

"It fell out of your pocket in my office, when you and Ric sat down," he explained as she got to her feet. "I would suggest that your trouser pocket is not a wise place to store your valuables," he smirked.

"Neither is any other place I've tried," she grumbled, and she could have sworn he looked slightly amused at this. "I've got a memory like a sieve," she added, finally standing opposite him.

"Would you like me to..." he asked, and she realised he was offering to put her it around her neck. She turned her back to him, slightly disconcerted by such an offer of intimacy from a man so detached. His knuckles brushed her neck, and for some strange reason, the skin there tingled slightly. Once he closed the chain, his fingers touched the top of her head lightly, and she felt a sharp pain where he touched her. "You're bleeding," he informed her. "It doesn't look deep but it will need cleaned. Do you feel unwell at all?"  
"No," she said. Just her luck to cut her head on a colleague's desk. "I'll get Chantelle to clean it for me."

"Nurse Lane is very busy," he reminded her. What? Was he actually suggesting _he_ do it? The concept was laughable. She just couldn't picture him helping her in any way like that. If she didn't know any better, she'd have said he was being _nice_. He silently left her, but she was in no doubt that he'd be back.

She gingerly felt the top of her head, as if he could possibly have been mistaken about the blood. She winced at her own touch, feeling the sticky wetness. And sure enough, she looked at her fingers to find a dark red substance.

Hanssen re-entered the room with the necessities to clean the wound on her head. She didn't bother to object; it would have been pointless and would have only got her uptight. Instead, she leaned on her desk and let him approach her. She could feel his long finger separate her hair around the cut, and she could tell he was trying to be as gentle as he could. She'd never thought he was capable of being so...kind.

She didn't complain when her scalp stung as it was cleaned out, or when he rested a hand on her shoulder to keep her still. She heard the door open, and she knew Ric had just walked in. Her head was bowed, though, so she couldn't look at him, until he sat at his own desk. She glowered at him under her eyebrows, daring him to comment.

"That should be sufficient," Hanssen finally declared, his fingers rearranging her hair so she didn't quite look like the moron she felt. "I fear I may have caused you to hit your head," he admitted.

"It's fine," she assured him, not quite sure why her voice came out so soft when she intended it to sound strong. She looked up at Hanssen, acutely aware that Ric was watching them. She met his eyes for just a moment before adding, "My own fault anyway. I'm forever losing that necklace."

"Yes, you must learn to look after this better," he agreed, his fingers touching the metal lightly. "Be sure to say if you feel ill. And I wouldn't drink any alcohol tonight, just to be safe."

"Of course," she said, moving round the desk to sit in her chair, placing some distance between them. He nodded to her and then to Ric, and left in his usual proud fashion. As soon as the Swede was out the door, of course, Ric rounded on her.

"What was that all about?" he asked her. Of course he was curious. Everyone in this hospital seemed to be endlessly and annoyingly curious. "Was the almighty Mr. Hanssen giving the radiant Ms. Campbell a little TLC?" he teased.

"Shut up," she snapped with a glare. "I hit my head and he cleaned the cut. End of story."

"Were you crawling around the joint looking for that damn necklace of yours?" he guessed. "I saw it fall out of your pocket in Hanssen's office."

"And you didn't say anything?!" she demanded.

"I was curious to see what he'd do with it," he shrugged. "The fact he knew it was yours is quite remarkable since he doesn't pay much attention to anything but the job at hand."

She stared him in the face, knowing he was waiting for her to react the news that he'd known where he necklace was all along. "I could swing for you, Ric, you know that?" she asked, in a polite tone that didn't match the threatening intention. "You can be a right old git when you want to be."

"Did you only just notice that?" he grinned. "Anyway, you're no little angel yourself, you and your razor-blade tongue." She smiled, allowing him that one. "Could be worse," he told her.

"How could it be worse? I've got a sore head and you seem to be of the false opinion there was more to it than a nasty bump."

"It could've been Michael who walked in on that," he reminded her. He was right. She much preferred Ric's minor teasing to the monumental fun Michael would've had with that situation. "Although I have to admit, you did look like you were enjoying yourself, just a little bit."

"Yes, having the time of my life," she drawled sarcastically. "A gash to the head with a lanky Swede who hates my guts looming over me, probably taking great pleasure in the pain he was causing me."

"Oh, come on," Ric protested. "He doesn't hate your guts. Nobody can hate you for long. Not even Michael managed it."

"Ric, do the world a favour and shut your trap," she ordered him, opening one of the many files delegated to her by Hanssen. One of his unfortunate habits since Serena had become his 'sidekick' was to give her copious amounts of paperwork to do when she'd much rather be at home with a bottle of wine.

He did shut up for a few minutes, but he soon started again - "I saw that look."

"What look?" she sighed exasperatedly, humouring him whilst refusing to take her eyes off what she was doing. That shut him up. Pleading ignorance seemed to work better than getting annoyed at him; it just seemed to amuse him further. She concentrated on the papers in front of her, attempting to block out everything around her. But she was analysing every detail of that experience, wondering why her body reacted to his touch the way it did, when his hands touched her throat so briefly. And why on Earth he patched her up himself rather than have a nurse see to it. And why she'd allowed those things to happen in the first place.

She heard Ric get up but didn't take her gaze from her work until his fingers tapped lightly on her desk. When she looked up, he said, "The heart wants what it wants."

He didn't give her time to reply or even glower at him; he left her without another word, shutting the door behind him. What could possibly have given him that idea? Hanssen was her boss, nothing more, and she had no intentions of changing that. The simple explanation was that Ric was seeing things that just weren't there.

"_The heart wants what it wants_," she snorted mockingly, picking up her pen once more.

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and say what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	2. Chapter 2

** A/N: This is about a week after the first chapter, so I hope it makes some sense. Also, thanks for the reviews.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena fell into her chair, tired of Hanssen and his backward way of doing and his tendency to insult her in the most subtle of ways. A week ago, she found it amusing. Today it was doing her head in. But then a week ago, she'd been oblivious to the fact he was capable of caring about anyone.

Her mobile rang and she saw his name grace the screen; groaning quietly, she answered, "Yes, Mr. Hanssen."

"You've left your bag in my office," he told her, and she silently cursed her own stupidity. "You really must keep better track of your possessions," he added sternly. She made a face as he said it, his tone of voice grating on her nerves. That stuck-up, formal, arrogant, bossy tone he reserved for her when he wanted to get at her. And she knew he was trying to annoy her.

"I'll come and get it at the end of the day," she sighed.

"Don't you need anything from it?"

"I've got my phone. That's all I need," she replied, hanging up on him before he could annoy her any further. The day had barely started and still she was fuming and she had absolutely no idea why. All she knew was she had a strange desire to slap Henrik Hanssen right across the face for his high-and-mighty, pompous attitude.

Their meeting – better described as him giving her orders – had put her in a foul mood. She was seriously reconsidering taking up that post if it meant taking that on a regular basis. Even better, he kept making quietly snide comments about efficiency and patient care being in balance, and loyalty and teamwork. And it was getting on her nerves.

There was something else though. His voice stirred something in her she hadn't felt before. It wasn't quite hate and it wasn't quite love. It was so potent that she'd struggled to concentrate this morning.

"Arrogant, horrible, snide," she listed, throwing files onto the desk with every word she could come up with, "up himself, pedantic, lanky, sarcastic, cold, manipulative, authoritarian, OCD-ridden-"

"I hope you're not muttering about me," Ric's voice said from the door as he entered their office. Her head snapped up and she realised he'd walked in on one of her less dignified temper tantrums.

"No," she assured him shortly.

"From what you were saying, I'd hazard a guess you were venting your feelings about out lovely CEO," he said, clearly an attempt at winding her up. She didn't need wound up. She was annoyed enough already.

"Hmm," she replied as she tried not to say anything about what she was really thinking. She would only end up ranting about how cold and strange and frustrating he was.

"Come on," he sighed. "Out with it."

"Out with what?" she pleaded innocent.

"I've seen you irritated by Henrik," he reminded her. "I've never heard you come out with a string of insults like that." Fair point. She was normally quite good at keeping her feelings and her temper to herself. She'd only really let it go in front of Eleanor, and in front of her husband before they'd divorced.

"Last week, when I hit my head," she began, sitting in her chair once again. "He was so kind, so careful. Ever since, the shutters have gone up and all he does is make horrible remarks and try and annoy me. I could throttle him," she rambled on.

Ric just sat there laughing, and she felt her frustration start to boil over. "Serena, I don't think there's a person in this place who doesn't get annoyed by him sometimes. Apart from perhaps Chantelle, but she puts up with anything and everything," he reasoned. "He's protecting himself. It's the only thing he knows how to do."

"Why would he need to protect himself from _me_?!" she demanded.

"You're Serena Campbell. Isn't that reason enough?" he smiled. "Either that, or...nah."

"Ric?" she said, starting to worry now. "Ric, what are you thinking?" He didn't reply, and she was in no mood for his games. "Don't work me," she warned. "I am _not_ in the mood."

"Unless he's amping up the nastiness so you don't think last week meant anything," he explained; Serena just shook her head to herself.

"Last week didn't mean anything anyway," she asserted. "Why would he feel the need to do that to me? All it was was that he frightened me, I hit my head and he cleaned the cut," she reminded him for what felt like the thousandth time. She was sick of repeating herself. Hanssen was nothing to her, and no amount of teasing from Ric was going to change that. No amount of pushing and prodding was going to change her mind about what she thought of her boss.

Her pager started beeping and Ric quipped, "Saved by the bell."

"Funny," she sneered as she left him to see to her patient.

It became evident when she examined the man that she was going to have to go into theatre for a good few hours. So she scrubbed in and began. And, as was her luck and attitude, complication after complication arose, and she found it was half-past four before she could close up. Five hours in theatre for what should have been an elective.

She decided it was time to face Hanssen. She'd had hours to calm down, but there was still a tight in the pit of her stomach as she faced the prospect of facing him once more. Why did he have to rile her so?

She didn't change out of her scrubs; there was no point yet. She didn't know if she would have to go back into theatre yet. She pressed the button and waited for the doors to open. And when they did, her worst nightmare appeared before her. Stood there, looming over her, was Hanssen, and she had to get in the lift with him.

He said nothing, and she could feel her temper start to rise again. She willed herself to hold her tongue as he stood there silently. How could he just do that? How could he possibly just be so cold and unfeeling and calm when she was ready to slap him?

That knot in her stomach turned into a fluttering – something she wasn't accustomed to. She was starting to fear there was some truth in Ric's jokes.

"Can I have my handbag, please?" she asked, rather feeling like a child as they got out of the lift and headed towards his office.

"Of course, Ms. Campbell," he replied, opening the door and letting her in. He handed her the bag and she felt an urge to confront him. He'd been particularly vicious with his words in the past week, but always implied rather than direct.

"That's it, is it?" she demanded. He looked confused, so she elaborated for him, "No apology, no explanation for the way you've treated me this week?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't play innocent!" she growled, her voice rising. "All week you've been making snide little remarks, trying to irritate me!"

"I can assure you it is not my intention to irritate you," he replied calmly, with that tone of voice that got her so uptight. "I have no wish to upset you in any way." That flat voice made her want to hit him, but, oddly, she believed him. The way she had to reign herself in was unusual. She never had to purposefully exercise control over herself; it normally was a natural part of her.

"Will you stop with that tone?!" she shouted. "Can't you just act like you're human and not some cold robot that doesn't understand the meaning of real social interaction and would rather push people out than have a half-decent conversation?!" she ranted. "Can't you just be _normal_?"

"My reluctance to raise my voice holds no bearing on what I _feel_," he retorted, his voice remaining deeply level and placid. Oh, he was so annoying.

"The way you were before, when you were tending to my head, _that_ was human," she enlightened him. "This thing you do is just utterly ridiculous. You go to stupid lengths to protect yourself. You're an unfeeling, arrogant, sarcastic-"

She was cut off when a pair of lips crashed into hers and his arms pulled her close. She instinctively pushed him off her, and looked into his eyes. She saw something there. Something that wasn't as dead and cold as usual. And she felt something for him. Anger. Frustration. Passion.

What came over her, she didn't understand, but she completely stopped thinking. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, almost violently, letting her body sink into his. He drove her backwards, and her back slammed into the wooden door with a loud thump. His hands were on her waist as she pulled her body upwards, having to reach up on her tiptoes in the absence of her boots. She felt the same tingle as before every time his hands touched her skin. She felt her lips tingle in the same way as he kissed her as violently as she kissed him.

"This is..." she forced out as he refused to stop kissing her. "..._so_ wrong."

He pulled back and said, "Live in the moment, Ms. Campbell." He leaned in and she couldn't help herself. Ric was right. The heart wants what it wants.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Here's chapter 3 :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena left that office in shock. She threw her bag over her shoulder, straightened her scrubs and ran her fingers through her hair to get rid of any knots he'd made.

Her hands were shaking. Her lips felt swollen. Her back felt bruised. Her heart was still pounding.

What the bloody hell just happened?

"Ms. Campbell," she heard a familiar voice call down the corridor. "Everything alright?" Mo Effanga asked, probably having noticed her flustered state. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"Believe me," Serena sighed. "I feel like it." She turned to face Mo and smiled, hiding the shell-shock from her colleague. "I'll be fine. I just need to get home and have a glass of wine. Or perhaps a bottle," she added as a grim afterthought. "You headed home?"

"Meeting Jonny to go see a movie," she replied with a smile. "Are you sure you're OK?" she checked, and she seemed genuinely concerned for Serena. She could only imagine the state in which she must have appeared to others. "You really don't look great."

"Yeah," Serena placed a false smile upon her face. "Yeah, I'm good.

"OK," Mo finally seemed to accept the answer. "See you around, no doubt."

"Yes, see you soon," Serena nodded, pulling out her phone as Mo walked away. She contemplated phoning Ric for advice, but she didn't know if she would be able to handle that know-it-all smirk he was bound to let seep into his voice. She would have to jump through that phone and strangle him. Malick? Bad idea. Too blunt. Sacha? Too soft. Elliot? Didn't like her. Jonny? Away to the pictures with Mo. Ollie? About as much help as a wine glass with a hole in the bottom. She needed a man's perspective to make sense of what just happened.

Michael? She laughed to herself at the very thought. She was no masochist. She could just hear his mocking tone and see his arrogant grin. She would end up shouting at him, if he was lucky.

She waited outside the lift, waiting for the doors to open. What was she meant to do? It was like a vivid dream...the way he'd slammed her into the door completely contradicted his frustratingly placid nature. Of all the things she'd expected to happen between them, this wasn't even on the list. She never expected him to do that in a million years. And she definitely never expected to respond by pulling him down and violently kissing him.

"Ms. Campbell?" Chantelle's sweet voice rang out. "Aren't you getting in?"

"Sorry," Serena said, quickly stepping in, looking to see Chantelle had already pressed the button for Keller. "Away with the fairies just now."

"You look like you've just been to the gym," Chantelle said. "You've got that rosy glow about you."

"That's one way to describe it," she replied, darker than she'd initially intended. Her head was in the clouds; she couldn't think straight. There was no logic to this, and there was almost always some kind of twisted logic in everything Hanssen did. Kissing her was totally out of character and went against everything he was, or at least appeared to be. Why would he do that? As far as she knew, he strongly disliked her. As far as she knew, he hated having a conversation with her.

She got out of the lift, nearly walking into a nurse as she did so. Ugh, she had to get a grip on herself before she did anything. She went to the nurses station and sat down, fearing Ric was in their office. "Who've you been kissing?" Malick asked her, walking up with a cocky grin.

"Me?" she replied. "I've not been kissing anyone. What about you?" she smirked.

"Very funny," he praised her with a smile. "But, honestly, you might want to sort that pink stuff out. It's smudged off your lips."

She felt herself blush, hoping nobody else noticed. Malick had eyes like a hawk, so she dared to believe nobody else looked close enough to see. "I'll just go and..." she answered, jumping up and heading to the bathrooms. For the love of God, this just kept getting better, didn't it? Why did he have to do that to her? Why did he have to launch her into space so she couldn't make heads nor tails of the world around her?

She put some water on a paper towel and wiped around her mouth in front of the mirror. Malick was right – Hanssen had smudged her lipstick onto her skin. He'd not been particularly careful, to say the least. She looked herself over in the mirror. Silently ordering herself to get a grip, she went to the changing rooms and changed back into her shirt and trousers, picked up her back and left Keller as quickly as humanly possible.

She pressed the button to the lift and when the doors opened she said jokingly, "Are you stalking me or something?"

"Of course not!" Hanssen replied, a faint smile gracing his lips as he feigned hurt. "Ground floor?"

"Please," she replied, seeing the button was already pressed. Great. He was going home too. She hadn't noticed his coat before now. They stood in silence; Serena didn't have a clue what to say. What _could_ she say, really? After that encounter, what was there to be said? He'd said it all when he pressed her against the door and kissed her.

The doors opened again to reveal AAU, and Michael and Chrissie got in. Now Serena really did feel awkward. They weren't to know any better, but their presence was unnerving. They seemed to sense the tension and she watched them exchange a dark look as they assumed there had been yet another dispute between Henrik and Serena.

The journey finally ended when the doors opened and both Michael and Chrissie said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Serena replied, and she heard Henrik mutter something behind her. She tried walking away from him but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She turned and said, "Goodnight, Mr. Hanssen."

"Goodnight, Serena," he answered, walking off, leaving her bemused. Had he just used her first name? He _never_ used her first name. Not since he'd reappeared, anyway. Not since the whole non-referral mess.

As she got into her car, she found herself analysing the use of her own name. "This is ridiculous," she informed herself, resting her head on the steering wheel until she regained what little composure she had left. Why did he affect her like that, and so suddenly? Just this morning, she'd called him for every name under the sun – none of them complementary – and had told Ric she wanted to throttle him.

She jumped when she heard a sharp rapping on her window, and she fumbled with the car keys so she could let the window down. "What?" she groaned, fearing he'd come to find her to help on Keller. Had something else gone wrong with her patient?

"Are you alright?" he asked, and she saw the same real concern as she saw in Mo. Did she really look that bad?

"I'm fine," she smiled.

"Have you spoken to Hanssen?"

"Yep," she replied, dreading the conversation that was sure to follow.

"And?" he encouraged. "Did you get anywhere with him?"

She paused a moment, deciding to lie. What else could she do? She could hardly tell him the truth, could she? She didn't know why, but she didn't even know what was going on in her own mind, never mind Hanssen's. "Not really. He's still stubborn, he's still backwards and he still hates me," she lied, not knowing how much of it was true or not.

"He doesn't hate you," he repeated what he told her earlier. "Did you get anywhere about why he's been so unpleasant since that incident in our office?"

Serena felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and knew Ric was going to notice. She looked away, trying to get her eyes to meet anything that wasn't Ric's interested gaze. "What happened?" he sighed.

"Nothing," she replied.

"Liar."

"Nosy."

"Come on, Serena," he urged her. "You look stunned." She believed him; she _felt_ stunned. She'd left that office totally speechless, a rare occurrence. She shifted her weight uncomfortably as she recalled the initial kiss and how she'd pushed him away. And then she remembered how she'd so easily succumbed and pulled him close. How she'd let him force her backwards, never letting him stop kissing her. What had he done to her?

"What did he do to you?" Ric echoed her last thought worriedly. "Did he sack you? Put you down to AAU again?"

"No, you can't get rid of me that easily," she smirked to herself. She was finding this difficult to process, never mind talk about. "And anyway, I think I nearly drove poor Michael demented last time. Though that might have been Imelda's trouble-making. Not to mention his wife changing the plans for Christmas."

"_Poor Michael_?" he repeated. "Jesus, he really has knocked you for six, hasn't he?"

She back into her seat, debating on whether or not to tell Ric. She was sure he knew how to keep his mouth shut, but she also was sure he'd think less of her knowing she'd given in to Henrik so easily. "We've not fallen out," she allowed. "At least I don't think we have."

"So you got an explanation?"

"Sort of," she replied. "Not in so many words. Not in _any_ words, really," she laughed to herself. "Put it this way," she sighed. "It would appear that whatever he thinks about me is...passionate."

"So, what? He shouted at you?" he asked, leaning into the car to get a better view of her face. "_Hit_ you?" he added, worried Hanssen had finally snapped and took it out on Serena.

Serena looked up at him for a moment and started laughing. "I don't know if Hanssen is even capable of hitting anyone!" she said. "No," she sighed, looking at her fidgeting fingers. "I was ranting about how arrogant and cold he is, and he..._kissed_ me," she confessed, realising how confused she sounded.

"And you responded to this, how?"

"Me?" she asked. "I pushed him off. And then proceeded to snog the face off him. Stupidest thing I've ever done."

Ric laughed very lightly. "Don't go kicking yourself. Like I said, the heart what it wants. Hell, I slept with Michael's ex-wife. He punched me in the face, of course," he grinned. "Look, all you can do is confront him. All you can do is sit down with him and see what happens."

"It's that easy, is it?" she asked sceptically. "You're forgetting something."

"What?"

"It's Henrik Hanssen we're talking about."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: The only reason I managed to write this today was because I was sent home from college at lunch time - half the tutors are sick and half the workshops are out of bounds until they clear up the fuel spill. Therefore we had no tutor, no workshop and were told to do one ;) and thanks for all the reviews :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena woke up the next morning with a sore head and a confused mind. She'd drunk more than she ought to have yesterday after discovering Eleanor was at a friend's house "studying" for the night. "This is all _his_ fault," she muttered to herself, looking at the clock. Damn. She'd overslept; it was now after nine in the morning. She had to trust Ric to cover her until she got the hospital.

She hastily got up and showered, throwing on the first shirt and trousers she could find, quickly doing her make up. This was the first time in her life a man had caused her to sleep through her alarm. Well, actually, he'd caused her to drink too many glasses of wine, but that caused her to oversleep. Therefore it was all Henrik Hanssen's fault.

The drive to work wasn't long enough; she was dreading having to face Hanssen now. Even more that she'd done yesterday morning. She was beginning to wonder whether she preferred their previous fractious relationship rather than what he turned it into yesterday. And yet, she still wondered what it would be like to love him. Simply because she was messed up like that, and she had a suspicion he was even more so.

She got into the lift, where she was joined by Michael. "Hangover?" he smirked.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Is it all Hanssen's fault this time?" he asked with a cocky grin. Serena's heart leapt into her mouth as she wondered what he knew. Had Ric told him? Michael turned to see the expression on her face, and added, "I could've cut the atmosphere with a knife last night. Hell, even Chrissie noticed it."

She breathed a soft sigh of relief and tried to think of her day ahead as Michael gave her a strangely understanding smile while he stepped out of the lift. She had no plans with Hanssen today – thankfully – but she knew she was going to end up meeting him. She could just feel it.

She stepped onto Keller cautiously, looking out for the looming Swede. She sneaked past into her office to find Ric at his desk. He looked up at her with a knowing smile. "Well, I can see how you dealt with your encounter," he quipped.

"Haha," she drawled. "Has Hanssen been down here yet?" Ric raised an eyebrow and Serena rolled her eyes. "I just want to know if I've been caught an hour and a half late for work with a hangover," she said sternly.

"No, he hasn't," Ric answered her. "You do realise you can't just ignore the fact you kissed Hanssen, don't you?"  
"Why not?" she asked, sitting down at her desk. "Sounds like a pretty good idea to me."

"You've got to be kidding."

"I'm not," she assured him. "The less we think about it, the better. I was angry. He wanted to shut me up so he didn't have to hear the truth about himself. We kissed out of nothing more than that."

"Tell me you didn't feel anything for him," Ric challenged.

"I don't feel anything for him," she replied, meeting his gaze sternly. "As far as I'm concerned, he can take his bad attitude and-"

"And what about _your_ bad attitude?" he cut her off. "You're doing exactly what he's done this past week."

Only Ric would stand up and say that; in a way, she was grateful he had the courage to put her straight. Nobody else had it in them to do it. "I didn't mean this to happen," she sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"Well, it's happening. Aren't we lucky?" he replied sarcastically, relaying her own words to her daughter back to her. "Look, you're tired and you're quite obviously hungover. Perhaps you should think about this once you've cleared your head."

She picked up her stethoscope and headed to the ward to check on her patients. She didn't want to listen to Ric, even though she knew he kind of had a point. How long could she and Hanssen keep up the act of pretending nothing happened before they both buckled? Regardless of what she told Ric, she had felt something for Hanssen yesterday. She just didn't know how to describe that feeling. It wasn't warm and fuzzy. It was a feeling that burned bright red inside her.

She worked for an hour until she decided she couldn't bear a lack of caffeine any longer. She had no energy left. She finished with the last of he patients and then headed off Keller, shaking her head as if it was going to arrange her thoughts into some logical order.

"Ms. Campbell," a voice she knew all too well called. "Are you alright? You look worse for wear," Hanssen commented from behind her. She'd noticed him too late and they'd passed each other, so he'd seen she was hungover.

"I'm fine," she called back, not even turning to face him. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want a conversation. She wanted to take whatever she'd felt for him, lock it in a cast iron box with an unbreakable code and place it in the very back of her mind where hopefully it would be completely forgotten about.

She bought a coffee and wandered slowly back to the ward, attempting to kick herself back into gear. What was wrong with her? She'd never let anyone do this to her before now, and she'd never intended to let anyone make a mess of her.

She took a sip of coffee but the taste made her stomach turn; she threw it into the nearest bin. She looked up and saw Ric and Michael directly in front of her, blocking her path back to Keller. "What you want, double trouble?" she smiled.

"Serena," Ric began.

"Don't start," she sighed. "Just do not start."

"You've got to deal with him," Michael said.

"You told him?" Serena hissed at Ric. She felt like knocking him out, but refrained; she didn't think it was worth the trouble it would surely cause. "Anyway, there's nothing to deal with."

Michael looked at Ric, who nodded behind her and said, "Hello, Mr. Hanssen!" Serena's head immediately whipped around to see where her offender was. One thing...he was nowhere to be seen.

All of a sudden, she was no longer standing. Michael had picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder. "MICHAEL!" she shouted at her friend. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Dealing with it," he answered, taking her to the lift, ignoring her protests, cursing and hitting as the three of them got in. "It's the only way you're gonna go up there."

"Don't!" she shouted. "I'm too heavy. You'll hurt yourself," she warned him, deadly serious.

"You're not heavy," he answered. She looked around at Ric and glared at him.

"You two are _dead_ once I'm finished with you," she promised them, still struggling against Michael. He was stronger that he looked; she'd always thought he seemed rather skinny and vain. Turns out he was quite muscular..

"Yeah, yeah," Michael replied complacently. They got to the fifth floor and Michael placed her right outside Hanssen's office, both men blocking her exit away.

"Bullying me will get you nowhere," she said flatly. She spotted her worst nightmare striding along the corridor. She started to panic inwardly at the thought. "Let me leave or I will kill you," she whispered them an ultimatum. "I will boil you both from the inside out and leave no forensic evidence," she threatened.

"May I ask why you three have convened outside my office?" Hanssen's dry voice demanded calmly, in that tone that irritated Serena _so_ much.

"I'm not here for any particular reason. I was passing and asked these two," she glared at Michael and Ric, "for advice on something. I'm going now,_ aren't I_?" she aimed at the two blocking her way. They grinned and let her pass. She was going to murder them for that embarrassment. She didn't care that she'd dropped them in it with Hanssen now; served them right.

She got back to Keller and stumbled into Chantelle in her distraction. "Sorry," she said.

"Everything OK?" she asked with a bright smile.

"Yeah, fine. When's Mr. Abercrombie due in theatre now we had to cancel Miss McKay's procedure?" she changed the subject quickly before she began ranting about the three most prominent men in her life.

"Half-past two," Chantelle replied.

"Good. Can you make sure he's prepped go by then, please?"  
"Of course."  
"Thanks," she sighed. She spotted Ric and ran up to him, rounding on him immediately. "_Never_ pull a stroke like that again," she warned, poking his chest threateningly.

"Do that again and you'll lose a finger," he replied with a smirk, entering their office.

She pulled him by the jacket and gave him her iciest glare. "Do _that_ again and the part of your anatomy I remove will mean _so_ much more to you than a finger," she snarled. "Understood?"

"Shall I pass that message onto Michael?" he retorted.

"Definitely."

She sat down at her desk and leaned over, putting her head on the desk wearily. She supposed they thought they were smart now, ambushing her on the third floor corridor. "What am I meant to do?" she groaned.

"We already told you what you need to do," he reminded her. She felt an urge to go over there and strangle him again. No. Bad idea. But tempting nonetheless. "You need to go up there and face him. One way or the other, you have to deal with this. You can't spend all your time avoiding him, especially if you're expected to work so closely with him."

"Are you quite finished?" she moaned into the desk. "The man doesn't know what a relationship is. I might not be perfect but-"

"Serena," Ric said slowly.

"No," she replied, refusing to relent. "At least I show when I'm happy or annoyed or upset. He just pretends emotion is entirely irrelevant. It's enough to drive a saint round the twist. And I'll tell you something else. His expressionless, arrogant-"

"Serena, that's enough!" Ric barked at her.

She sat up, curious as to why he'd raised his voice. And then she realised. Oh, God. Hanssen was standing between Ric and Serena, and she could swear she saw a tiny bit of hurt in his dark eyes. She couldn't say anything. All she could do was wait for Henrik to speak.

"I would like to speak with you about Mr. Abercrombie's procedure, Ms. Campbell," he informed her, his voice flat and dead. No anger, hurt or any indication of being offended. But then when was there ever any indication? "Could you please come and see me before you operate. I have meeting just now but I will be free in around an hour."

"Yes, Mr. Hanssen," she answered, keeping the formal tone of their conversation. He left without another word. How could he even do that? How could he pretend he didn't hear her insulting him? It had to take an incredible level of self-control to be like him, it dawned on her. He wasn't like that naturally. He'd trained himself to do that. Damn.

She met Ric's eyes and moaned, "Kill me now."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please fell free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: The reason for this being posted at this utterly ridiculous hour is that I'm buzzing right now. But that's another story. Anyways. Thanks to everyone who's left a review - very kind!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

An hour later, Serena found herself knocking on Hanssen's door, waiting for an answer. He said nothing. How odd. She knocked again. Nothing. He'd definitely said he'd be free in an hour. Slightly worried, she opened the door and stepped in with the intention of making sure he was still alive.

The office was empty though. She looked around, remembering the less pleasant times she spent in this office. Michael mockingly scoffing at that report, effectively telling Serena it was her fault. The arguments disguised in polite words. Having to resort to invading Hanssen's privacy because she needed to know where he was. And, truth be told, she'd rather missed him. How he put up with this bunch on lunatics for two years, she'd never understand.

"Ms. Campbell," his voice rang out, making her jump. She cringed internally at having shown fright; she didn't like to show any kind of weakness, however small but, unlike Hanssen, she accepted it wasn't always possible to disguise how she was feeling.

She turned and faced him. "Sorry. I knocked and there was no answer," she explained. "I came in to make sure you were OK."

"And why would you particularly care?" he challenged her with the slightest hint of bitterness, sitting down at his desk. Serena huffed, unable to answer; she didn't know. She _did_ care though, which was more than she'd ever expected of herself. There were a lot of people she'd never expected to care so much about – Chantelle, Malick, Ric, Michael, Chrissie, Sacha, Jac...and Henrik, it seemed.

"Don't be so childish," she finally sighed, not thinking of how that would sound to Henrik.

He chose to ignore that last remark and continued with the business he called her here. "Now, Mr. Abercrombie's procedure. There a few rather serious potential complications, so I would like you to take Mr. Griffin into theatre. Mr. Malick has already agreed to cover for him if it over-runs."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own," she retorted, and she couldn't help but let the defensiveness seep into her voice. It wasn't often someone brought that out in her but Hanssen had an unfortunate habit of bringing out the worst in her.

"It sheds no light on your capability as a surgeon," he replied smoothly. "I simply would prefer if there was a second pair of well-experienced hands in theatre with you, merely as a precaution."

"Fine," she sighed. "Whatever you say."

"Thank you," he said politely.

"Is that everything?"

"I believe so."

She felt his eyes scanning her for some indication as to what she was thinking; she felt she'd done rather well to hold her tongue this long, considering her usual personality traits. "I'm sorry," Serena finally said. "I'm sorry for what I said to Ric about you."

"No, you're sorry that I walked in on it," he contradicted her.

"So, what? You're just going to pretend nothing happened?" she asked incredulously. "How can you live your life pretending people don't hurt you and no-one can make you happy?"

She realised too late she'd just asked a deeply personal question. "I know I hurt you," she persisted. "I saw it in your eyes. I was angry, and not just at you, and for crossing a line, I apologise."

He said nothing, and she could tell she wasn't going to get anywhere with him. Her pager went off; she was needed on AAU. Oh joy. A conversation with Michael. "Michael needs me," she said quietly, leaving him in his own silence. As she made her way to AAU, she realised what a mess she'd made. This wasn't just Henrik's doing; she'd contributed a fair amount of stupidity into this situation too.

"What's up, Michael?" she asked as she walked into the mania of AAU.

"Joanna Grant, thirty-three, massive internal bleeding. Need your help on this one, Serena," he admitted. "We can move her off AAU until we know her spine is intact, and she's systemically unstable. It's too dangerous to move her up to Keller."

"I'm due in theatre at half-two," she protested. He put that face on, the one where she knew he was being sincere and not messing her about. "Fine, I'll do it if you get Hanssen to take care of mine."

"Why can't you ask him?"

"Let's just say I'm in no position to personally ask a favour from him," she replied darkly. Michael gave her a questioning look but did as she asked while she familiarised herself with the case.

When he returned, Michael wore an expression of mild dread. "He's coming down to _assess the situation_," he confessed.

"Of course he is. He'll never just take my word for it, will he?" she groaned.

"He doesn't take anyone at their word," he answered, obviously trying to make her feel just a little better about the situation. Just then, she spotted Hanssen appear at the double doors, looking around him at the chaotic mess AAU almost always was. There had been a massive road accident and, as usual, the ED and AAU bore the brunt of it. If AAU overspilled, Keller was going to fill up as well. She was almost glad Hanssen had posted her down here for a while; she now knew why Michael took so badly to the non-referral scheme.

"Really? Because he seems to trust everyone else," she muttered into her coffee. As she spoke, the man in question stalked onto the most chaotic of units with an irritatingly calm air about him.

He looked around him, silently deciding on his course of action. He approached Serena and Michael and said, "I will assist you, Mr. Spence. And Ms Campbell, I'd like you to return to Keller, please."

"Actually," Michael piped up, "I would prefer to have Serena on board for this. It's one of her many areas of expertise."

"Very well," he agreed, easier than she'd expected. "Mr. Malick and Mr. Griffin will proceed with Mr. Abercrombie, Ms. Naylor will keep an eye on Keller and I will remain here to assist you," he told them, and Serena could tell there was no talking him out of it. It angered her more than she wanted it too. She didn't want to admit to herself how much his trust meant to her.

She couldn't stop herself. "I don't need a babysitter. I'm a grown woman, a well-qualified surgeon and I've got an MBA from Harvard bloody University. I think that's all the bases covered, don't you?!" she sneered while Michael looked on in horror as she leapt across the line of professionalism.

"I'm not here to babysit," he replied calmly.

"No, no, no," she cut across him before he could continue. "You're here because you don't trust me. You're here because you think I'll screw up and let my business head take over and risk my patient's welfare!" she found herself shouting. People were starting to watch, and she didn't even care. She was past caring about that now. "Go on, then! Deny it."

He stared her in the face and, without flinching, said, "That was not my intention. My intention was to ensure you and Mr. Spence had sufficient assistance during a potentially complicated procedure."

"Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow sceptically. "Because you keep popping up whenever you think I'll do anything stupid. You don't trust me, and it needs to stop. Now."

He did not reply. She could tell that she was right; she was tired of him not trusting her to do the right thing. She was aware that she'd only been promoted so he could keep a closely scrutinising eye on her. She was aware he was keeping her on as short a leash as possible.

"Exactly," she snarled. "And you won't even admit it," she added. His face remained straight; he betrayed no sign of anger or frustration as she did. He'd pushed her to the point of shouting abuse in the middle of AAU and he wasn't even smug about it. "Go on. Shout at me. Discipline me," she growled, and she shocked herself by pushing him backwards, trying to force _some_ kind of reaction out of him. "Sack me," she pushed him once more. "Go on. I dare you."

"I will not do any of those things," he retorted, ever the diplomat. "You've done a rather marvellous job of humiliating yourself – you don't need my help."

She pushed him by the chest again, trying to make him feel as angry as she did. To show it like she did. "You two!" Michael barked, finally intervening. "My office – now!"

"Need I remind you that you are a subordinate to both of us?" Henrik asked without emotion, boiling Serena's blood as he did.

"Yeah?" Michael replied. "Well, this is _my_ ward and I will not have you two throw each other across it!" he asserted. Serena felt oddly proud of him for standing up to her and Hanssen at their most volatile. "Get in there," he ordered, pointing to his office. "I mean it. I won't have you acting like petulant little kids on my unit. Stop causing a scene and let my staff get on with their jobs."

Serena looked around her, the full extent of what she'd done hitting her. Chrissie was giving her a "just do it" sort of look. Sacha was attempting to stand behind Michael in support. Both nurses and patients were watching to see how this mad situation was going to pan out. Oh, God. What had she done?!

She stepped aside for Hanssen. She wasn't going first. She refused to – if Henrik didn't take it upon himself to irritate the hell out of her, this never would have happened in the first place.

Hanssen attempted to stare Michael down but only received insolence for his troubles: "I don't care if you're the CEO and can fire my ass. You're sorting this out, preferably before you start tearing chunks out of each other."

Hanssen looked from Serena to Michael and then to Sacha and Chrissie, who were now both fully behind Michael in a display of reinforcement. Henrik let out a soft sigh and walked straight past Serena and into the office she'd once shared with Michael. She followed him and Michael was straight behind her.

He shut the door behind him and drew the blinds to give them some privacy to work out why their relationship was so volatile.

Both Hanssen and Serena remained silent until Michael broke the ice, so to speak. "If the board finds out you've been having altercations in the middle of a busy Acute Admissions Unit, they'll have your heads on sticks," he reminded them. "Sort it out."

He left, slamming the door behind him in temper.

Serena met Hanssen dark eyes and swallowed, surprised by her own nerves. Where to begin?

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for all the amazing reviews for the last chapter - very flattered! Hope you find this just as good.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena looked up at Hanssen silently, not knowing what to say. She was beginning to realise that she'd well and truly crossed the line, and this was the outcome. Michael had put her in a room with Hanssen and made the valid point that they could not continue like this anymore. After only a week, their relationship had degraded to the point of violence on her part.

And yet, she couldn't help herself. She was still fuming. It was confusing – part of her wanted to get through his guard to see his true nature, and part of her was still far too angry to even attempt diplomacy. And the last part, the tiniest part, was terrified of what might become of them. She felt more for Henrik than she cared to admit, and how it came about, she was unsure.

"You drive me mental!" she informed him, unable to reign in her feelings. She couldn't control the volume or the tone of her voice. Her emotions were coming out of her mind and straight into words without any filter. "You're so cold it's almost like you're dead," she told him, and she could tell it stung him by the way he flinched just a tiny bit. "Can't you just get angry with me?! I've given you a hundred reasons to hate me, and you don't even show any anger!"

"What good would it do?" he replied logically.

"I could punch you in the face and you still wouldn't get angry!"

"I would," he contradicted her. "I just wouldn't allow my emotions to rule my head." He looked at the floor, waiting for her to continue her assault upon his character.

"You didn't even push me back!" she argued. "Three times I threw you across the ward, and you didn't even retaliate. You didn't defend yourself. You _feel _nothing!"

"I _feel_ plenty," he retorted, his eyes snapping up to meet hers.

"Then show it!" she shouted. "It isn't a crime to let someone know you're angry with them! It isn't weak to tell someone they've hurt you when they cross a line! And I _know_ I hurt you when you walked in on my little monologue to Ric! And just now when I told you it's like you're nearly dead. I know you felt hurt by it! Admit it!" she ordered him.

He gave her a stony glare. It wasn't working. He was emotionally crippled. It was the only explanation. "Admit it!" she shouted again. She pushed him once more.

"Admit it!"

Push.

"Admit it!"

Push.

"Admit it!"

Push.

His back was against the wall and his eyes were locked on hers. It was only when he crushed his lips into hers that she realised this was what she'd been after the whole time she'd been getting angry. He had his arms tight around her body, pulling her close like his life depended upon it.

She kissed him back, pressing him into the wall. She was the one in control this time. His lips were moving seamlessly with hers and it was an amazement to her how anger transformed into this kind of passion. She could feel his hands on her back, pulling her close. Her hands sneaked up his chest until her arms were around his neck and she could pull herself up closer to his level.

She broke away and prodded one more time, "Admit it."

He met her gaze and said, "I admit it hurt to hear you talk about me like that to Ric. I admit being described as dead stung."

"Was that so hard?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes," he confessed. "I don't show feeling because it can be used against me," he continued. She'd guessed as much. "I don't show emotion because I don't want anyone to know they have any power over me."

"Why?" she asked. She'd done nothing to move away from him; her arms were still locked around his neck. His arms remained tight around her. She felt almost as though he was holding onto her so she couldn't run away from him; she was beginning to realise that, underneath the self-assured arrogance and behind that wall of stone, he was really quite vulnerable. He clearly didn't think much of himself at all. "Is this to do with you buggering off to Sweden for two months?"

He didn't say anything, but she took that as confirmation. "What happened over there?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as his features grew rigid. He seemed unable to take his eyes off her, but also like there was nothing he wanted more than too look away from her. How very odd he could be.

"I've had a lifetime of loss, lies and cowardice. I was not innocent myself. Some of the paths I took were solely for my own protection and it was the selfish thing to do," he admitted. "I don't wish to live like that, but it's the only life I've known."

"Oh, Henrik," she sighed, her heart melting slightly at the realisation he'd made himself such a cold person. In some bizarre, screwed up way, this crack she saw in his shield made her want him. To know he was human, with a past and a history full of pain and mistakes behind him, made her feel more strongly for him. It was all very strange and very new to her, simply because it was so messed up. "You don't have to be like that all the time. You don't have to treat me the way you do. I don't care if you're not infallible or you've made mistakes," she said. "Everyone does. We just have to play on."

She reached up and kissed him again, to prove her point about not caring in the slightest that he was more broken than he allowed to show and not as tough as he made himself out to be. It was endearing, the way he kissed her so passionately, and yet she could feel the weaknesses in the way he kissed her too. Even right down to the way he held her back so tightly but so carefully, like he was scared to let her go but scared to make her feel trapped at the same time. He was a very, very odd man.

She found herself pulling her body as close to his as humanly possible without suffocating either of them. She had to remind herself his back was pinned to the wall before she hurt him. "Do you do this to every man you physically intimidate?" he teased her between kisses.

"Only the ones who truly get my back up," she grinned.

She could feel his hands slip down to her hips, and she suddenly felt rather nervous. She wasn't used to being so impulsive – reckless, even – when it came to her personal life. She knew she was almost as closed as Hanssen was, until there was someone who cared enough to exploit the cracks she couldn't disguise. That was usually up to Ric, Michael and Hanssen, she'd discovered.

"Stop," she whispered, and his head immediately pulled back. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just not used to this. I'm _really_ not used to this," she confessed, surprised by how very unnerved she felt. The suddenness of it had reeled her in. And then she remembered she wasn't confident enough to let him do this.

"It's absolutely fine," he assured her, stroking her hair back into place. "I rather think Michael's office is a rather inappropriate location, anyway," he smirked. She was glad to see a sparkle in his eyes. Some life there was an unusual but welcome occurrence.

Serena backed off a bit, to give him some space as much as her, and sat in the chair she used to occupy when she worked down here. She put her head in her hands for what felt like the hundredth time this week. "We're a very screwed up of pair of people, Henrik," she announced.

"Ah," he said. "But all the best people are screwed up." She looked to see him wearing a soft smile. The door opened and they looked around to see Michael had entered his office.

"No injuries?" he asked. "That's an improvement."

"Very funny, Michael," she replied, resisting that childish temptation to stick her tongue out at him. "Is Miss Grant prepped yet?" she enquired.

"Yeah, there just taking her in now. Give it another then minutes for the anaesthetic to kick in though. Better safe than sorry," he explained. "You two worked out your differences yet?" he asked them.

"Yes, Mr. Spence," Henrik said. "Thank you for intervening. I don't think we would be on speaking terms right now if you hadn't."  
Michael nodded, and Serena could have sworn he was smirking to himself. "I'm needed on Keller, so I will see you both later, I'm sure," he excused himself. He'd reverted from his original plan, obviously seeing now that Michael and Serena were more than capable of dealing with the situation.

"Unless you want everyone to talk, I'd wipe the lipstick off your face, Mr. Hanssen," he grinned as the taller man left. Serena just smiled, feeling something she'd not felt since she was a teenage girl – a combination of desire and timidness. Michael rounded on her and remarked, "That went well, then."

"Yeah," she replied, trying to keep him from making a huge deal over it. Thinking about it, Michael knew, Ric knew and Malick knew _something_ was going on between her and someone else. He just had no idea who.

"Come on, Serena," Michael smirked. "You try and tell me you don't feel good."

"I don't feel good about it," she lied, but she couldn't help the embarrassed smile that crossed her face. "Who am I kidding?" she sighed.

"Not me," he smiled. "Look. If he, for whatever insane reason, is what you want, then go for it. Who knows? It might make him actually _smile_," he joked. Serena slapped his arm playfully for his impudence, but she was just kidding around.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. She couldn't help but wonder how far her relationship with Henrik might have deteriorated had Michael not stepped in when he did. She may have actually slapped him. He didn't seem to understand how much easier he'd just made her life.

Impulsively, she pulled him into a tight cuddle, trying to tell him how grateful she was. "OK," he choked. "Can't breathe!"

"Sorry," she smiled, letting him free. "We better get to theatre." She walked past him but he pulled her by the wrist back to him.

"Wait," he ordered her. He pulled out a tissue and wiped her mouth lightly. "Don't want anyone asking funny questions, do we?"

She just grinned at him. It was all she could do. Though she was doubting herself both emotionally and physically, she had to admit she was in a much better place than she was twelve hours ago.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's chapter 7 and thanks for all the lovely reviews!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena and Michael stepped out of theatre, having saved that woman's life. As she pulled her gloves and apron off, she caught a smirk on Michael's face with the corner of her eye. The smirk she loved and hated at the same time – she liked to see him amused, but hated being the source of said amusement.

"Go on," she groaned. "Spit it out before it chokes you."

"Nothing," he smiled. "Just thinking about you and the boss man. About what you and the boss man might end up doing tonight," he added. She glared at him and he said, "Sorry. That sounded less creepy in my head."

"Compared to what else is up there, it probably was," she retorted, making a face and him as she turned on the taps to wash her hands.

He looked at her and started laughing. "Nice one, _Rena_," he praised her, deliberately using that name to get at her.

"One of these days, Michael..." she trailed off threateningly, but she did so with a small, friendly grin. She had to admit he was one of her best friends, however unlikely that friendship was. It was the same with Ric. She'd _never_ expected he would become her friend. They were two people she expected to have to resist the daily temptation to slap, but obviously not.

"One of these days you'll realise you love me really," he winked. She couldn't help but smile; she did love him really. Not the same way as she found herself feeling for Henrik or what she once felt for her ex-husband. More like a brother. An annoying, immature, cocky brother. Who she wanted to deck, but didn't have the heart to actually do it.

She just smiled and shook her head, leaving him to it. She headed up to Keller, still in her blue scrubs from being in the AAU theatre. "Heard there was a fight on AAU," a voice behind her said, catching her up.

"News travels fast in this place, doesn't it, Malick?" she smirked to herself. She should have known word would have spread about her daring to push Hanssen across AAU.

"Yeah," he replied. "Come on then. Spill. What did he do to upset you?"

"The usual," she shrugged, trying not to sound _too_ pleased with herself. Obviously, it wasn't working; she looked round to see Malick wearing a wide grin.

"It was him, wasn't it?" he asked. "He was who you were kissing!" he whispered, so that the whole ward didn't hear her personal exploits. "I _knew_ it!" he said triumphantly. "Oh, by the way, Mo wants you up on Darwin. Apparently, your new position includes reigning patients' relatives in...good luck."

"Great!" she said sarcastically. She clapped the registrar's arm and headed to the lift. By the time she reached Darwin, she found Hanssen was already there with Jonny Maconie outside the relatives' room, clearly having a dispute with a young man of about eighteen or nineteen.

"Mr. Hanssen, Nurse Maconie," she greeted them. "Malick said you needed me up here," she explained her presence. "What's up?"

"I rather think this is a discussion to have in private," Hanssen said formally. "The relatives' room is occupied already, so perhaps the staffroom?" he suggested to Jonny, who led them to the small room, where they sat around the table. "Right then. What Nurse Maconie and I are trying to explain to Mr. Arklay here is that his sister has signed a DNR form, which, of course, means that should she arrest, we are powerless to resuscitate her," Henrik explained.

"OK," Serena sighed diplomatically. "I can understand why this upsets you, Mr. Arklay," she began. "But I assume your sister is of age and mentally aware. We have to respect her wishes."

"No, you don't," he snarled, speaking with more aggression than Serena had anticipated. "Surely there's some way you can bypass that? She has another few months left in her, surely."

"Yeah, but it'll be a few months of agony for her," Jonny chipped in. "You can sort of see why she doesn't want to prolong it anymore – she's suffered for nearly a decade."

"You don't understand," he sighed, his head in his hands.

"Then explain," Henrik said calmly.

"You know what?" he retorted. He got up and started pacing, as if he was trying to work out how to put it. She expected him to give up and let them fulfil his sister's wishes. He leaned against the door, and alarm bells started to ring in Serena's head. "I'm not playing any more."

"Mr. Arklay," Serena warned, keeping her voice level. He dug around the pocket of his blue work trousers and Serena was alarmed when he pulled out a Swiss army knife. Henrik and Jonny immediately stood up. Serena remained seated, trying not to provoke a situation she may not come out of in one piece.

"Please give me the knife," Henrik requested calmly.

"Not another step," Mr. Arklay warned Henrik as he slowly advanced towards the man threatening them all. She heard the click of the lock on the door and realised this door could not be opened from the outside.

"Henrik, Jonny," she said, finally standing up. "Back off."

They stopped moving and took a single step back. "You don't want to do this, pal," Jonny told the young man. He was about to ruin his own life. Serena had a horrible feeling about this; she felt like someone in the room was going to come out damaged.

"Throw away the DNR," he demanded.

"We can't do that," Jonny piped up. "It's up to Daniella what she wants. She's twenty-three. It's her decision whether or not she wants to live like this."

"Shut _up_!" he shouted. He was rapidly losing control, and Serena could see this ending badly.

"He's perfectly right," Henrik supported Jonny. "Your sister has made her decision," he tried to get through to the person who'd just effectively taken the three of them hostage. He was slowly moving towards Mr. Arklay, his pace slow. Jonny hadn't moved, probably trusting Henrik had this under control. "You must accept it."

"I don't have to accept anything," he snarled back. Feeling an odd need to stand by Hanssen and, in a way, protect him, Serena soon found herself by his side. Jonny followed suit, standing on her other side.

"Hand it over," Jonny ordered, his voice threateningly low. This young man was physically very strong; it was obvious from his clothing that he worked in some sort of trade. He was well-muscled, too. She could see that, even through his t-shirt. It would take more than one of them to force him to give up that knife. She was just waiting to see which man was stupid enough to try and physically force it off him.

It was Jonny who reached out and touched him first. Henrik then took the other arm and they struggled. Serena took his hand, trying to pull it out of his grasp, but it ended up a tangle of arms and strengths, and she didn't even know which pair of arms she was fighting now. She just needed to get the danger away from all four of them. She could feel the cold metal of the Swiss army knife in her fingers, but he still had control, despite the fact there were two men and a woman struggling with him.

Then something slipped. The metal was completely in her hands, but her hands had flown away from Mr. Arklay. She pulled it out of the mess of arms and hands and looked at it, horrified – the sharp metal blade was covered in dark red blood. She subconsciously felt her own abdomen, finding nothing. She looked around at Jonny; he was fine. Which could only mean-

"Oh, Christ!" she heard Jonny exclaim. Serena's head whipped round to see Henrik's white shirt turn red, the colour emanating from a tear on the right side of his abdomen. Henrik's fingers touched the area, and she watched in fright as he looked at his own blood on his fingertips. He fell to the floor and Serena's immediate reaction was to give Jonny the knife and kneel down beside him.

"Stay with me, Henrik," she told him, taking off her blue scrub top to reveal the vest top underneath. She pressed it into the wound and looked up at Jonny. "Get him out of here and get me some help. And a crash team!" she added, just in case, pressing her fingers to Henrik's neck to take his pulse. Oh, God. What had she done?!

She vaguely acknowledged Jonny unlocking the door and throwing a shell-shocked Mr. Arklay out of it. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, and she felt hot tears roll down her face. He was drifting. "Henrik!" she shouted to try and get his attention back to the living.

She could hear a trolley being rushed to the door, and she felt herself press her lips into his. A precautionary goodbye of sorts. "Ms. Campbell!" Jonny shouted. "Out the road! Now!"

She vacated the area in which Jonny, Mo, Jac and Ollie needed to assess what to do. "Page Michael Spence!" Jac barked, as they moved Henrik onto the trolley. The next time Serena looked up, they were gone. She looked at her hands, only to see them covered in Henrik's blood.

This was her fault. She was holding the knife when it stabbed him. She didn't know what to think or what to do. She just stood there, staring at her hands, his blood running down her arms. Her phone rang, and she picked it up, seeing the caller ID through the blood she'd just smeared on the screen by touching it. She put it on speaker.

"Serena!" she heard Ric's voice shout down the line at her. Oh. She was meant to be on Keller right now. "Where the hell have you disappeared to?!"

"I..." she began, trying to regain her composure. "I'm up on Darwin."

"What are you doing up there? You're meant to be helping me control the overspill from AAU."

"Ric," she said, her voice hoarse. "Ric, it's Hanssen."

"What?"

"There was this man and he had a knife and Hanssen, Jonny and I were trying to get him to give it up but we struggled and it slipped and..." she couldn't finish. She couldn't tell Ric she'd stabbed Hanssen. Accident or not, she felt awful. If he died, it was on her hands.

"Oh, God," he moaned. "I take it Jac and Mo have taken him to theatre? Paged Michael?"

"Y-yes," she forced out, shock impeding her speech.

"I can't come up just now but I'm sending Malick up to get you, OK?" he informed her, and she could tell from his tone that he was trying to keep her as calm as possible.

"OK," she agreed. She hung up and just stood there; there was nothing she could do. For once in her life, she was powerless. She had no control over what happened to Henrik now. It wasn't long before She heard Malick's voice asking where she was, and she managed to call, "In here!" to him.

He sprinted into the room and found her. "Come on," he said, very gently. "Let's go and get you cleaned up, eh?"

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and say what you think!  
Sarah x**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Two chapters in one day! That's good going for me. Just shows you the calibre of my social life. Ah well. Sometimes I prefer fictional people to the real ones anyway. Who doesn't?! ;) anyway. Rambling aside, this the the eighth chapter. And thank you for all the reviews I've had today :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena let Malick help her wash her hands and arms, and help her into a clean set of red scrubs. Chantelle lent her a pair of clean trainers. Marie-Claire gave her some make-up wipes and helped her take her ruined make up off; Serena's hands were shaking. She was shocked. She was horrified. Disgusted that she'd done this to Henrik.

"What happened?" Malick asked gently. He was resting his hand on her shoulder, and she knew he was trying to keep her at ease, as much as was possible.

"It's my fault," she said, finally saying it aloud. It made it real. She was not just imagining this now. This was real, and she hated it. This was her worst nightmare come true. "We – me, Jonny and Hanssen – we were trying to get the knife from Mr. Arklay, but he's very strong. He lost grip on it and it ended up in my hands," she explained, aware that her voice was shaky and rough. "My hands slipped with the force of his coming off the handle, and the knife-" she stopped herself. She couldn't relive that horrible moment when she realised that _someone_ had a knife wound, and it wasn't her.

"It was an accident," Malick immediately reassured her. "If anyone is to blame, it's that moron for having a knife on him in the first place."

"You don't get it, Malick," she said. "_I _was holding it." She felt her chest become tight with the panic she could feel starting in her heart. What if she'd killed him? What if, because she'd so briefly lost control of her hands, she'd taken his life? The memory of him falling to the floor, bleeding out, would haunt her for as long as she lived.

Her eyes stung with the tears she was too terrified to cry; she felt like if she started, she may never stop. She could feel Malick's strong arms wrap around her body, trying to reassure her that this wasn't her fault. To her surprise – especially because Malick wasn't known for sensitivity and understanding – she allowed her arms to hold onto him, her cheek resting on his chest.

If he didn't survive, she didn't know how she was going to live with herself. A selfish outlook, she believed, but also one she could not help but take. It was difficult to believe she'd been kissing him mere hours earlier. She could barely remember throwing him back into the wall and kissing him until they were tangled in each other; seeing his pain and knowing she'd caused it was overshadowing it.

"Come on," he said, pushing her hair behind her ears. "You can go and sit in peace in your office. No point in staying in here."

He guided her out of the locker room and down the ward. She tried not to look at anyone, ashamed that she may have taken away the one thing holding this place together at the moment. She sat in her chair, trying to calm her nerves. She had nothing to distract her; she knew Ric well enough to know he would've rearranged and rescheduled her theatre list, and she noticed her paperwork, tablet and laptop were gone. He obviously wanted her to rest after her ordeal, and knew as well as she did that operating in this state was not wise. She didn't want yet another death on her hands, anyway.

She just sat there, thinking. She wondered what would've happened tonight had this not happened; perhaps she and Henrik would have gone out for a drink, or gone to one of their homes. Perhaps they would have smiled and laughed.

But, of course, Serena remembered she'd halted all that the second her hands slipped. She relived in her head the struggle, trying to work out exactly where in that period of time she'd allowed the knife to slip so briefly. It hadn't been long, but long enough to do some serious damage. She remembered the shocked look on Jonny's face when she'd turned to check him for injuries. She remembered Henrik looking at the blood on his fingers, all the colour – though it was admittedly scarce to begin with – draining from his face.

The whole event spun over and over in her mind, like a film on loop. Each time, something else stood out. Mr. Arklay's shell-shocked expression. The blood on the knife when she extracted it from the mess of arms and hands. The way Henrik's shirt turned red as the blood stained it. The way his legs and strength gave way and he fell to the floor. Jonny throwing Mr. Arklay out the room. Him shouting on Jac and Mo and Ollie for help. The way his lips moved so weakly against hers when she kissed him that last time.

She heard Jonny's order to get out of their way, and them hastily assessing the damage she'd inflicted. Standing there, staring at her blood stained hands. Her phone ringing. The blood she smeared onto it as she answered it. Ric shouting down the phone at her. Malick running into the staffroom. It was just quick, painful film cuts. She felt like, if she tried, she might not have been able to piece them together anymore.

She was worried sick. She was terrified she'd killed the first man she'd felt something for in a long time. It was just her nature. She was destruction. Poison.

She snapped out of her daydream and checked the clock, realising she'd spent two and a half hours torturing herself. _And so I should_, she thought to herself.

There was a knock at the door, making Serena jump slightly. "Come in!" she shouted.

Chantelle bounced in. Great. Ric had sent Chantelle to keep her spirits up. Serena felt bad for thinking that, but she couldn't help but wonder how Chantelle's foot would end up in her mouth this time. She was adorable, but she had a habit of saying the wrong thing.

She was holding two cups of tea, with a packet of chocolate chip cookies tucked under her arm. Oh, typical, loveable Chantelle; sugar was the answer to every one of her problems. "How are you feeling?" she asked brightly.

"I just stabbed Hanssen," Serena snapped. "How you think I bloody feel?!"

"Oh, I'm sure he knows it was an accident," the young nurse waved away the concerns with a relentlessly optimistic beam, handing her a cup of tea that literally smelled of sugar. It occurred to Serena that either Malick or Ric had explain the ordeal to her.

"If he survives," Serena muttered darkly. "He'd probably think I'm some sort of psycho," she admitted. "Stabbing him a few hours after..." she hesitated. She looked up at Chantelle and continued. "You'll hear from Malick soon enough. One minute I'm kissing him, actually getting somewhere with the ice cold Henrik Hanssen, and then the next, I've stuck a knife in him and he's fighting for his life while Mo, Jonny, Jac and Michael try and save him," she rambled on.

"Oh," Chantelle said, the wounded puppy face coming out to play. She bent over and put her arms around the consultant, as if some of her positive energy would transfer into her. Serena just wished everyone would stop giving her sympathy now. _She_ had done this. But rather than hurt the girl's feelings, she patted her back lightly.

Serena released her quickly. She didn't want to be comforted now. She wanted someone, anyone, to punish her for her actions. For sticking the knife in Henrik. Grudgingly, she took the cookies Chantelle pressed into her hand after she opened the packet and pulled over Ric's chair to sit in.

"Mr. Hanssen will be alright," Chantelle tried to reassured her. "He always is, isn't he?"

"Facing the Board and the press isn't the same as facing death, Chantelle," Serena replied sternly, sipping her extremely sweet tea. "You didn't see him. He was bleeding out."

"Yeah," she allowed, "but he's a tough one. Plus he has Ms. Naylor and Mr. Spence operating on him, doesn't he? He's in good hands."

"You don't understand," Serena heard herself say for the second time. "He's going to die. I can feel it," she confessed her pessimism. "I've killed him," she whispered, finally letting that crack in her heart split open, allowing the guilt and pain to pour out in the form on tears.

"Oh, no," Chantelle rubbed her arm. "Don't think that! It was all an accident. And anyway, like I said, Mr. Hanssen's a fighter!"

"I hope so," Serena sighed, wiping the hot tears form her face. She just wanted to tell him that she was sorry. That she never meant to hurt him. That she cared about him. In the mess of emotion she was struggling to to keep afloat in, she found something unfamiliar: a love for Henrik. A love for his peculiarities and odd habits. A love for his quick sarcasm. A love for all of his contradictions and the way they were everything he was. A love for his hidden passion.

And, strangely enough, as if she'd read Serena's mind, Chantelle piped up, "You love him, don't you, Ms. Campbell?" Serena met the young woman's eyes and found she was incapable of speaking. "I can tell from the way you're so upset. You're not just feeling guilty. You're scared of losing him."

"Aren't you?"

"Yes, but not for the same reasons," she replied. Serena didn't know when this attachment, this love, crept up on her, but it was sick in the way it only revealed itself when she had to lose him. She hated herself for losing him in such a sudden, violent manner. It was her impulsive carelessness that had landed him in theatre, where three surgeons were fighting to save him.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and Serena called, "Yes!"

Michael walked in, and Serena sat up straight, waiting to hear the damage she'd done.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
****Sarah x**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: OK. So I am very, very sorry for how I left that last chapter. I was feeling mean. Maybe this one won't torture everyone so much. But thank you all for such lovely reviews :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

"Serena," Michael began, sitting on the edge of her desk. His tone was soft, and she could tell from the look on his face that the news she was about to hear wasn't all that brilliant. "Just don't freak out on me, alright?"

She nodded, honestly not sure whether she had the energy required to freak out at him anyway. "OK," he sighed. "The knife did a lot of damage. You're a surgeon, and you saw where he got stabbed, so you probably figured as much. It doesn't look too good just now; he's in Intensive Care. He's stable, though, which is a positive sign," he tried to reassure her.

"Chantelle," Serena said, forcing her throat to allow her to speak. "Could you give me a minute with Michael, please?" Chantelle smiled and patted Serena's shoulder before she got up and left them in a tense silence. "Have the police been round asking questions yet?" she asked him, feeling slightly nervous.

"Yeah," Michael said. "Jonny said Arklay admitted to holding the three of you in the staffroom, and to having the knife, and says Hanssen's injuries are accidental. Apparently, he admitted it was all his fault. They might wanna speak to you though," he warned her. "Why?"

She met his eyes, and she felt hot tears sting her own again. "Michael," she began. "Michael, when the knife slipped and came out of Mr. Arklay's hands...when it went into Henrik's body, it was in _my_ hands. I stabbed Henrik," she finally sobbed, letting the anguish come full force out of her. Michael wouldn't judge her for getting so upset – of that much, she was sure.

"It wasn't your fault. OK? It wasn't you who took the thing into the hospital, was it?"

"I should have known that the moment I let him in, the second I got anywhere with him, I'd do something to destroy it. To destroy _him_," she confessed.

"Oh, come on!" Michael drawled. "It's not like you've set out to kill him, is it?"

"Not consciously," she agreed, revealing the darkest fear she had about this. The one she wouldn't tell innocent little Chantelle, or forgiving Ric, or the ever-controlled Malick. She wanted someone to berate her, to tell her she was evil. To tell her someone should lock her up and throw away the key. And if Michael truly thought that, he would tell her.

She felt like she couldn't trust herself, and that she perhaps, in the back of her mind, would have gone to such lengths to defend her heart. Maybe, by attempting to protect it, she'd just broken her own heart.

"Serena, you did _not_ mean to stab Hanssen, alright?" he reassured her sternly. "You're capable of many things but attempted murder isn't one of them."

"And you know that for sure, do you?" she demanded, feeling that she was beginning to hate herself. She hated herself for hurting him. She hated herself for the fact he was lying in Intensive Care. She hated herself for that tiny possibility that her mind had done that as a reaction to loving him. "You watched me push him across your ward, Michael. You know I was angry." She felt his hands on her legs as he knelt down in front of her. "What if my mind, my subconscious mind, did it on purpose, without knowing it?"

"No," he asserted. "No, now you listen to me, Rena. You're not a killer, OK? You haven't got it in you," he told her. "You're just blaming yourself because the knife just happened to slip into your hands. It could've happened to Jonny, and he could've stabbed Hanssen. Or it could've happened to Hanssen and he could've stabbed you," he explained to her, his hands around her wrists so she couldn't cover her face in order to stop listening to him. "Do you understand me?"

Serena nodded her head. If Michael didn't believe she was capable of trying to kill Hanssen, then she had to believe it herself. If Michael Spence had faith in her, then he couldn't be wrong, could he? He wouldn't let her think one thing while he held the opposite opinion. "Do you want to go and see him?"

"What's the point?" she asked cynically. "He won't even know I'm there." That was only a part of it; she didn't know if she could face what she'd done to him, whether she meant to or not. She could picture him with the tubes she always viewed so clinically as a doctor, and yet, when attached to him, she wasn't sure if she would be able to stand seeing them.

"You know as well as I do that might not be the case," he told her, his voice turning stern again. He knew she was being a coward. She could tell from his expression. And he was right; even some comatose patients were aware of their surroundings at times. She'd once accused Ric of being a chicken, so what did that make her?

He helped her to her feet; she was still shaking and unsteady. She hated being so helpless. Michael's arm was around her waist as they left the office and got into the lift. "How bad does he look?" she whispered as he pressed the button, trying to prepare herself. It was insane that he meant so much to her so suddenly, but stabbing him, in some twisted way, had made him everything to her. The fact she'd almost killed him, almost lost him, made her realise that, actually, what she felt for him was strong. What she felt for him now was so much stronger than the anger of twelve hours ago, so much stronger than just kissing him into the wall. What she felt for him now was fear and love and terror and agony and guilt and just more love. It was so confusing and yet so potent.

Before she could prepare herself, Michael was opening the door, and asking her, "Ready?" Despite her doubt and her fear, she silently nodded. If she was shocked, it was her own fault for putting the man in that state. She reminded herself, rather forcefully, that she couldn't crumble. She had to be strong, or at least appear as such. It wasn't fair on anyone if she was to fall apart.

She went to the bedside, Michael close behind her, and studied what she saw. Henrik was lying out straight, all six foot four of him, cannulas in his hand and neck. He looked awful. He looked fragile, something she'd never perceived him as. She'd only ever seen him stand tall, always cold and always strong. Here, he was weak. He was weak and vulnerable, and she'd done it to him.

She sat down in the chair next to the bed and just stared at what she'd done. She felt Michael's hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. "If you need anything, just get hold of me or Ric, OK?" he reminded her.

"Thanks," she said, and he left them to it. Seeing him here, like this, she realised she would never have done this deliberately. The pain she felt seeing him so broken was almost unbearable. And yet she forced herself to endure it. If it was the only punishment she was going to receive, she needed to make herself feel the agony of hurting the man she only just came to understand she loved.

She reached out and touched his bare arm with the tips of her fingers. He was so still. She'd seen him freeze before her eyes before – the moment he hung up on his Swedish phone call came to mind – but it wasn't the same. It wasn't lifeless; he'd been tense.

She suddenly felt exhausted, the day of turbulent emotion catching up with her. From anger, to passion, to fear, to shock, to guilt, to terror and then love, she'd felt it all today. And she did _not_ like it. She thought about Eleanor, and then remembered that Ric would've phoned her by now. Whether he gave the girl the truth or the excuse of an extra shift on an over-stretched ward.

Serena brought her knees up to her chin, leaning sideways into the side of the chair, just watching him. What if, when he woke up, he knew what had happened? That her hand had pushed the blade through his body? What if he hated her as much as she hated herself? She didn't know if she could live with that. He had every right to hate her, of course, but she hoped and prayed that he didn't. It was selfish of her to hope for it, but she couldn't help it. She was starting to realise that she could be a very selfish person when it came to everyone around her.

She felt her eyes become heavy and she started dozing off. She could hear the beeping of the machines, and it was oddly calming. It was steady, so it comforted her to know the machines were telling her he was surviving.

Her dreams were haunted by many visions. First of kissing him, then of the struggle, and them of his blood on her hands. It was just her reliving it. Until it started snowing. Until Henrik was dressed in a white suit. Until she looked down to find she was dressed in a floating white satin and lace dress.

Her feet were bare, the snow cold against her skin, as she advanced towards Henrik. She could touch his face, feel his lips on hers. She held him tight, like he was going to disappear into thin air. But then she felt a wetness seeping through her dress and onto her skin. She pulled away from him, her hands and eyes dropping to her abdomen. No pain. She looked back up at Henrik, and saw a wound, his white suit marred with a growing patch of red.

But he wasn't in pain. He showed no pain. He just smiled peacefully. "Henrik," she whispered.

"Serena," he replied, the calm smile never leaving his lips. His hands rested on her waist, and she smiled up at him, happy to see him at peace. "Wake up."

"What?" she asked, surprised he was trying to end this bliss.

"Wake up," he repeated.

"But-"

"But nothing," he said firmly. "Wake up."

He walked away from her, leaving her standing in the snow as he disappeared into the flakes. "Henrik!" she shouted after him. "Don't be so bloody annoying!"

"Serena," she heard her name being said, but it wasn't firm like it was just then. It was hoarse and weak. She looked around her, seeing nothing but snow. "Serena. Serena."

And then, suddenly, it wasn't snowing anymore. She was in the grey, bland Intensive Care room, and she heard her name once more.

"Serena."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews - you're all such lovely people :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena looked up to see Ric standing over her, holding a bottle of Diet Coke and a sandwich. She couldn't help feeling disappointed. "Thanks," she whispered, her throat stinging.

"You've not eaten all day," he reminded her gently, pulling up a chair next to her. "I've phoned your house and got Eleanor. I've told her you're needed here but didn't say why. She's fine," he assured her, handing her the sandwich and bottle. She looked up at the clock – it was close to midnight and Henrik still hadn't woken up. She tried to open it but found her arms were weak and unwilling to cooperate. "Give it here," Ric sighed.

"No. I can get it off," she said, determined she was capable of doing things for herself. But the cap wouldn't budge, and she quickly admitted defeat and handed it to Ric with a sulky huff. He opened it with ease, and it made her wonder why she was so weak. "What have I done, Ric?" she sighed, taking a drink from the bottle. It immediately made her throat feel a little better. "Look at him. That's not Henrik Hanssen lying there. Is it?" she added, knowing it was but also hoping this was some sort of sick, twisted hallucination.

"I can assure you that is Henrik Hanssen, I'm afraid," he said, reaching out to rest a hand on her leg in comfort. "But he'll pull through, and he'll know it's not your fault."

Serena's head snapped round and she glared at him, realising she'd never spoken to him about her guilt. "I don't remember telling you about that," she said, her tone deadly. She didn't know why she was taking this out on him. She knew it wasn't fair. But it didn't stop her glaring at him.

"Michael told me you had a bit of a panic about it, thinking you might have done it deliberately," he confessed. She opened her mouth to berate him for talking about her but he cut her off. "Don't start. We're just concerned for you."

She said nothing, just staring at her hands. To think these hands had done _that_ terrified her. She knew she probably should have been over that particular hurdle by now, but it kept creeping up on her when she just wanted to forget. She actually just wanted to forget it now. She'd punished herself. She'd went over and over it in her mind so she couldn't even escape it when she was sleeping. She knew what she'd done now and, though she would never forgive herself for it, she just wanted to look forward to her future, whatever it may be.

She wondered if Henrik really was so forgiving. As Ric sat by her in silence, she wondered why he would forgive her. She'd given him no reason to give her a second chance. She'd went around him, slagged him off, embarrassed both of them on AAU, shouted at him, called him names...why would anyone forgive someone like her? She cleared her throat lightly and said, "Could you go to my house and get me some clean clothes please? Take them to work with you tomorrow morning?"

"Of course," Ric immediately said.

"And keep Eleanor away from here. I don't want her seeing me in this state," she confessed. She didn't like the idea of her daughter seeing her mother was capable of hurting another human in such an extreme way. "My keys are in my bag, in the office," she added. "If you get lost, phone Eleanor. She knows this place like the back of her hand by now."

"Stop rambling," Ric ordered her gently, taking her hand. "I've got enough common sense to work it out, contrary to what you hark on about all the time," he smiled at her.

"Sorry," she sighed. She didn't know what to do. The thought was laughable – Serena Campbell didn't know what to do. Speechless, functionless, clueless. And she couldn't do anything to help herself, or Henrik. She didn't know what she was doing her if she couldn't do anything to help, but she felt she had to stay.

Ric stood up, and put a hand in her hair. "Try and get some more sleep. You were muttering about something when I came in, so I'm guessing it isn't that pleasant, but your body needs it, OK?" he told her strictly.

"Yeah," she breathed. He pressed his lips into her head before he left, and she knew he was trying to cheer her up and make her feel loved and wanted. She heard him close the door behind him, and she made herself look at Henrik once more before she drifted back to sleep.

She was not surprised to see snow this time, and she studied her dress more closely. It was lace layered on satin, the pattern delicate and fragile. Her hands moved to her neck and chest to find the dress was also sleeveless, and there was nothing over her shoulders. How the hell was she not freezing to death?

She felt the necklace she was so prone to losing around her neck, and smiled to herself.

She looked up to find Henrik had materialised before her, standing over her with a soft smile. His hands moved her fringe out of her face, and she grinned up at him. She looked down to his abdomen; there was no patch of red this time. What did that _mean_? "Henrik," she whispered.

"Welcome back," he replied, his hands moving to her waist. "Miss me?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips once more. He leaned down and she felt his lips move against hers, kissing her gently and yet still with a huge amount of passion.

"Of course I'm missing you," she sighed, kissing him again. "Why can't you just wake up already?"

He didn't reply; he just kept kissing her softly, and she couldn't resist letting him. There were questions she had that burned her from the inside out, but, for now, she just wanted him to hold her. She let him pull her into his arms, her head resting against the white cloth on his chest. She felt his hand on her head, holding it into his chest. "You do know how to wind me up, Henrik," she said into his chest. "I'm worried sick."  
"You're a doctor, Serena," he reminded her. "You know these things can take time. Patience is a virtue." She heard the smirk in his voice and she resisted the temptation to smack his chest.

They stood there in each other's arms for a long time; what Serena found odd was that, though it was cold and it was heavily snowing and she was scantily dressed, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was cool but not frozen.

"Wake up," he whispered to her. She looked up at him and he quickly kissed her before he elaborated, "Jac Naylor wants you. Wake up."

She kissed him once more and then did as he said, returning to the grey world of the hospital.

She looked up and found Jac standing, looking down on her, just as Henrik predicted. "Ric asked me to bring you these," the redhead said, handing her a pile of clothes. "They're overrun on Keller but he says he wants you to stay here."

Serena said, "Thank you," as she scanned the woman's face for the disapproval she expected to find, but there wasn't any.

"How is he?" she asked.

"No change."

"He was in some mess," Jac revealed. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You been here all night?" Serena just nodded, unsure of what else to say. What was there to say to the coldest woman in the hospital? The hardest, cruellest, most broken woman she knew. "Why don't you go and get changed and I'll sit here in case he wakes up?" she offered, much to Serena's surprise.

She remained silent but stood up, finding she was very stiff from the way she'd slept last night. As she locked the door to the nearest bathroom, and changed out of her scrubs and into her proper clothes, she found she was wondering whether he was ever going to wake out of this. What if she'd killed him?

The thoughts she'd tried so hard to banish had returned to haunt her while she was aware of what she was thinking. While her imagination wasn't in control. While her rational mind was in the driving seat, she knew Henrik was in a bad way, and that she'd been the one to put him there.

She was as quick as she could be, returning to the room in under five minutes to find Jac still sitting where Ric had sat last night. "Nothing?" she asked, secretly hoping her absence had made some sort of difference. But Jac shook her head, and Serena saw the sadness in the manner in which she did so. Henrik wasn't just something to her. He meant something to Jac, too. He meant something to everyone she knew and worked with here.

Jac was staring at Henrik's lifeless form. If the two women weren't doctors, and there were no monitors regularly beeping, they would've said he was dead. But he wasn't, and that was all Serena had to cling on to at the present moment. "I've got to get back to Darwin, before Valentine and Lo run my ward into the ground," Jac broke the silence. On the way past, Serena was surprised to feel Jac's slender hand catch hers briefly. "Just be patient. Henrik Hanssen never gives up."

The door opened and closed again, and Serena felt the hope draining from her body. The pessimism was like a disease, running through her veins until it was impossible to actually believe she hadn't killed the first man she'd loved in a long, long time.

After everything, after all the lying and the shouting and the anger, she'd come out the other end in love and guilty as hell. How sickeningly ironic.

She took his hand in between both of hers, and could feel his pulse on her fingers. She counted the beats, over and over again, every minute. It calmed her every minute he was still alive, and that she could feel it in her own fingers, touching his wrist as she held his hand.

She absent-mindedly stared at the posters all over the room, reminding people how to was their hands, and notices for the nurses that came to check on him every so often. Anything to keep her mind working, to keep the bad thoughts at bay. She just wanted him to wake up and stop torturing her now. She knew she was just doing it to herself, and he was in no way to blame, but she knew some of the pain would go away if he could see her, and speak to her.

The only thing left to do was stare out the window at the city surrounding this room, never breaking contact with his hand. She even took to counting the windows on the flat blocks close to the hospital, floor by floor, home by home.

Until she felt something move between her hands, and her head whipped around so fast it hurt her neck. "Henrik?" she said, standing up to see his face. And, sure enough, his eyelids were moving as he tried to open them. Her subconscious linked her fingers in his and held onto his arm. "Henrik, it's me, Serena," she told him when he finally managed to open his eyes.

The wave of relief that washed over her was something she'd never experienced to such a degree. "Serena?" he asked, clearly confused. He tried, as she knew he would, to sit up, so she gently pushed him back down. "Are you alright? Nurse Maconie? Mr. Arklay?"

He obviously recalled what happened, then. Henrik being Henrik, it hadn't taken him long to get his priorities in order. "Yes, yes, we're all fine," she said, not letting on about her feelings of guilt about what happened. "Just relax," she ordered him, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

She was pleased to receive an icy but soft glare for her public display of affection – it meant Henrik was alive.

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: OK, so this might be ridiculously soppy, but I'm in a soppy kind of mood, so there we go. And thank you yet again for the wonderfully positive reviews to this fic.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Following procedure, Serena got a nurse to check Henrik over before she did anything else; truth be told, it made a decent distraction for a few minutes while she composed herself. Whatever she was feeling – the love, the guilt, the pain, the fear – had to be put to one side for now. She had to be strong and put him first, as ridiculously tempting as the idea of confessing all to him was.

Once the nurse was done, Serena sat down and reached for his hand, taking it in hers gently. "How are you feeling?" she asked, as idiotic as it probably sounded.

"I'd say I'm fine, but given the state I'm in, I doubt you'd believe me," he said dryly.

"Henrik," she warned him, her tone soft and laced with more care than she'd anticipated. When had Serena Campbell gone soft?!

"I feel awful," he finally confessed. She so wanted to tell him, but she wasn't sure she had it in her to do it when she could see he was still so weak. "You don't look so good yourself, Serena," he added with stern care clear in his voice. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her, taking in her unwashed, messy hair and pale face, and the marks under her eyes from a night of sleep that wasn't really sleep. "How long have you been here?"

She met his eyes, willing now to let him know how much she really did care. "Since yesterday afternoon. Michael had to practically drag me up here. I didn't want to," she answered honestly. "I was probably just being a coward. I didn't want to see you like that."

"You're no coward, Serena Campbell," he gave her an unusually weak smile; she squeezed his hand lightly. _If only you knew_, she thought to herself. But despite her ill feelings, she gave him a soft smile, just happy she hadn't actually killed him.

"Henrik," she began, swallowing hard as she forced herself to be tough enough to put herself through the pain of discussing this, sooner rather than later. She felt like the guilt was going to drive her insane. She couldn't hold it in any longer; she needed to say something, and if he hated her, he hated her and there would be no way for her to change that. "Henrik, what do you remember about what happened?"

"Well, the knife wound tells a fairly reliable story, doesn't it?" he gave an attempt at a joke, but Serena's face turned stony as she silently warned him she wasn't messing around. He sighed, and said, "If you're getting at the fact you were the one who pulled a Swiss army knife out of my body, and probably put it there, then yes, I remember what happened."

Taken aback at the direct nature of his answer, Serena was thrown. She didn't know what to say to that. She looked at their joined hands; why hadn't he put any distance between them? Why was he still gripping her hand with the little strength he had? Why wasn't he accusing her of trying to kill him?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm not some sort of psycho, Henrik," she explained to him as she tried to extinguish any thoughts of that kind that may have gone through his mind.

"You are manipulative, discerning, power-hungry, guarded, bad tempered, disobedient, treacherous, above your station with ideas as selfish as they are illogical," he stated bluntly.

"Gee, thanks," she said sarcastically; being told who she was, who she _knew_ she was, stung a little.

"But you're not psychotic," he assured her. "Yet," he added with a weak smile. She had to smile back at him. At least he acknowledged that she was not a madwoman. At least he didn't feel the need to section her. She swung their hands gently, just glad he didn't hate her. "Give it a few months with me and you may require some professional help."

Serena laughed, admiring him for maintaining a sense of humour under such compromising circumstances. The door opened and Michael Spence walked in, saying, "How are the big man and baby Rena today?" in his usual self-assured, over-confident, over-familiar yet affectionate fashion. He leaned against the railing at the side of the bed, next to Serena.

"Call me that again and I will castrate you, Michael," Serena threatened, her tone deadpan.

"I take it back," Henrik muttered. "You may actually be psychotic."

"Well, at least you're alive and verbally kicking," Michael replied to Henrik's remark. "You weren't in very good shape yesterday." He handed Henrik a card; he looked at it suspiciously.

"Is there a bomb in here?" he asked the American, who just laughed. Serena wasn't used to him making so many little jokes. She had an unpleasant feeling he was using his dry humour to disguise the discomfort he felt as he lay there helpless. He opened it and read the names and messages there. "'Get well soon – don't make me come up there and kick your arse into gear,'" he read out. "Well, Miss Naylor has a way with words, doesn't she?"

"That's our Jac," Michael snorted. Serena allowed herself a grin at Jac's daring remark. Only she would have the nerve to write that in a card to Henrik Hanssen.

"Thank you," Hanssen said to Michael.

"I think they're moving you out of Intensive Care today," Michael told him, and Serena saw a small smile grace Henrik's face; she was sure he loathed Intensive Care. "Keller sideroom, as far as I've been told. Ric and Jac are in charge of you for now, anyway."

"Why does that make me rather nervous?"

"Because there are times they'd both quite happily string up by the ears," Michael said cheerfully. "I'm sure they'll move you soon enough. Get well soon," he said, and Serena knew from his grin she was about to receive an insult and lo and behold - "I don't like the idea of Rena in charge for too long."

She glared at him; that thought had slipped her mind. She was second-on-command to Henrik now, wasn't she? "Heavy-duty bolt cutters or a good old-fashioned meat cleaver?" she retorted, her voice sugary sweet.

"Jeez," he said, holding his hands up.

"Are you_ ever_ going to stop calling me that?" she asked, catching Henrik's quiet smirk in the corner of her eye.

"Nope," he replied. "It's too much fun. Anyway, I don't have anything else to wind you up with at the moment. Right. I will see you both later," he said, leaving them alone once more.

"Would you sack me for murdering him?" she joked.

"No, but I fear the police may have something to say about it," Hanssen replied. "He's irritating, I know, but his heart is in the right place," he paid the American an unexpected compliment. He turned to put the card on the unit but groaned in pain as he did so; Serena immediately tried to take it from him and do it but he snatched it away from her. "It's fine," he snapped.

"Sorry," she said, sitting back down in her chair. She felt rather awkward as she watched him struggle to do something so simple, but he pushed away her assistance. She'd forgotten, as he had lay there unconscious, that he was a proudly independent man; he wasn't going to take to the powerlessness and the helplessness very well, she'd realised.

When he was lying back down, something brought back her dreams of last night. She didn't know what it was, but something about that moment made her think of cool snow and bare feet and white clothes. It reminded her of her pretty dress that she was glad she never saw herself in, and the white suit he'd worn. Of cuddles and kisses and safety. Of the reassurances she'd never needed before.

She realised too late she was wearing a guiltily childish smile as she reminisced of the previous night. "Is something amusing?" he asked.

"Have I ever seen you in a white suit?" she asked him curiously, wondering why she'd dreamt up such a thing.

"Serena, I don't think I even own a white suit," he answered.

"And have you ever seen me wear a white lacy dress?" she added, paranoid that she really did own that dress somewhere in the disorganised mountain that was her wardrobe.

"I've never had that pleasure, no," he replied with a small smile. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress at all, actually."

"And we've never been out in the snow together?"

"What are you jabbering on about?" he sighed. She realised it was probably the oddest string of questions he'd ever heard, though at this hospital she wouldn't be surprised if he had actually heard stranger.

"Nothing," she quickly brushed it away, too embarrassed to tell him what her tired, terrified mind had dreamt up as a comfort for her. "It's nothing," she smiled. It obviously had no basis except for her subconscious mind trying to give her something pleasant to think about. There was no suit, no dress, no snow, no bare feet. Just her.

His hand stretched up and his fingers brushed her cheek, and he said, "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop torturing yourself," he told her. "Do you honestly think I believe that you stabbed me deliberately?" he demanded.

"Stranger things have happened," she remarked.

"You're not a monster, Serena," he reminded her, addressing her worst fear – that she'd turned into some sort of evil demon. She feared she was capable of things she'd never thought of before, and she didn't like it. The thought that she had that potential evil in her frightened her to death. She was meant to be a mother. A doctor. A businesswoman. A _lover_. Not someone who was capable of stabbing another being.

Her hand moved to cover his; she felt her own fingers touch her face and she realised she probably looked like hell. She _felt_ like hell.

"It was a dream," she confessed. He looked confused so she elaborated. "The suit and the dress and the snow. I fell asleep here twice and both times I had a dream. It was snowing. I was wearing a white dress I probably would look a horrific state in," she chuckled. "You were in a white suit."

"I see," he smiled. "I have a feeling I would have enjoyed this."

"Funny," she sneered at him jokingly. "We just stood there, talking. I don't think you once let go of me," she said, leaving out the most embarrassing parts. It was difficult enough to explain the easiest parts.

"You really are very odd," he informed her.

"Do the words _pot_, _kettle_ and_ black _mean anything to you?"

She felt his thumb stroke her cheek lightly; she actually hadn't noticed his hand was still on her face. She just smiled. It was the only thing left to do. He was alive. He didn't hate her. He didn't blame her. It was all she could have asked for.

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: It's 2am and I'm updating. Yes. That's right. I am an insomniac. I must be - I'm always up at this hour and when I do sleep it never goes uninterrupted. Anyway. Enough of my ramblings. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter and here's the 12th one :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

When Chantelle came to get Henrik down to Keller, Serena was thankful. Thankful it was someone she knew. Thankful Chantelle had come instead of palming the duty off on another nurse. She felt safe around Chantelle for some reason, and she did not take that for granted. Once Henrik was settled in the side room, Chantelle approached Serena and eyed the door, telling her to come out for a moment.

Once they were safely out of Henrik's earshot, Chantelle said, "Mr. Cunningham's been looking for you. I've sent him on a wild goose chase to give you more time with Mr. Hanssen," she explained. "I told him you were on AAU and I asked Chrissie to tell him you were on Darwin and Nurse Maconie is going to say you'd gone home to get some fresh clothes."

"Smart girl," Serena praised her, patting her arm lightly. "Any idea what he wants?"

"I don't know for sure, but I think he might want you to step up as CEO until Mr. Hanssen's back on his feet," she reasoned.

"Thanks, Chantelle," she smiled. She waited until Chantelle had gone back to work before she inwardly panicked. She was finding she didn't want Henrik's job. She wanted to be with him, to help him and to be there for him when he needed her. She didn't want to spend her time in meetings and hunched over a desk while he was lying in a hospital bed.

There was only one thing for it, she realised as Cunningham walked onto Keller, looking rather irritated. She approached him, and said, "I'm sorry I missed you," with a smile. "I had to get a change of clothes."

"That's quite alright," he replied, evidently surprised her story matched Jonny's. "How's he doing?" he nodded towards the side room.

"Better. At least he's awake, which is an improvement," she said. "Actually, I was about to inform you that I am taking four weeks' leave, effective immediately," she said innocently, yet making sure he knew she was serious.

"But with Hanssen out of action-"

"-you will have to find someone else to stand in for him," Serena finished, rather than let him say his piece. "I am taking leave, and I will not be acting as CEO while Henrik recovers."

"May I ask what has prompted this sudden change in attitude?" he asked suspiciously, clearly deciding Serena Campbell turning down the opportunity to be in charge as abnormal. And she had to agree that, before, it would have been out of character for her to do that, but now she had more important things to worry about.

"There are more pressing matters in my life than the running of this hospital," she said sternly. "I will not sideline them to accommodate it."

"And these matters are-"

"-none of your business," she across him once again. She glared at him, using that look she knew made F1s cower and consultants back down. "They do not affect the staff, patients or general running of this hospital."

He wasn't backing down as easily as she'd been hoping. He wanted the answers she really did not want to give him, in case he used them against her or Henrik. She may have been willing to use his malevolent nature to her professional advantage before but she refused to do so now. She saw Malick approach them, obviously having watched them from the nurses' station. "Everything alright, Serena?" he asked. She knew what he was up to – making his position clear without being asked. Whatever it was, he was backing Serena. He stood behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Cunningham's look of assured arrogance faltered slightly at the sight of both Serena and Malick before him. "Why on Earth are you taking this stand?" Cunningham asked her.

"Let me explain something to you, Mr. Cunningham," she began, her smile as sweet as it was false. "The moment you find what you've been looking for, when you finally fall to grace, nothing else matters. Politics mean nothing when you've got someone you would do anything for. Especially when that person needs you more than they've ever done before. Especially when you have a daughter sitting at home wondering what the hell is going on," she added, taking Eleanor into account. "And I'm afraid I must tell you that I have both those things, and I will not put them second so I can struggle to fit them between working and sleeping," she finished.

He looked slightly shocked, and it seemed he was finally realising what was going on. "You and Hanssen?" he asked. "Are you kidding me?"

"Do I look like I am kidding?" she retorted.

"You do know I will have to inform the Board of this?"

"You do know I don't care?" she replied. "Tell them what you want. Tell them I'm sitting with Henrik, if you want. Tell them I've swanned off to lounge in the sun in some little island paradise, for all I care," she added with a note of sarcasm. "Just make sure you tell them I'm not working for the next four weeks while you're at it."

"Fine," he sighed, clearly exasperated by the whole situation. It annoyed Serena that he felt no real concern for Henrik, and that he only wanted her to take over his position so the hospital would be run the way he wanted. It angered her that he saw Henrik's situation as an opportunity. "This will be your downfall."

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Cunningham," she smiled. "This will be what makes me. This will be what Henrik and I make it."

He left without another word and Serena turned to face Malick. "And that, Mr. Malick, is how to get what you want without getting into a brawl," she told him with a smirk.

He smiled at her."I always enjoy watching you in action. Especially when it's a prat like him you're nailing by the balls," he added before walking away to see to a patient. Serena had to laugh at his words as she returned to Henrik's side.

"How're you feeling?" she asked as she sat down.

"As well as I can expect," he replied. "What was all that about?" he asked her curiously. She gave him an innocent look but he wasn't falling for it. "Nurse Lane taking you out."

She sighed and said, "Cunningham."

"Am I to take it you are acting CEO?" he asked her.

"No," she replied. "No, actually, I've taken four weeks' leave, effective immediately."

"What?" he said, his tone one of surprise. "I thought you would have jumped at the chance to act up as CEO again."

"I see. Is that what everyone thinks of me?" she challenged, only half-jokingly. "Look. I refuse to take your position while you're stuck in a hospital bed, especially since it was me who put you here," she added.

"We've discussed this already, Serena," he said, his voice turning stern at those words. "You did not put me here. The fact that boy was moronic enough to take a knife out on the three of us put me here," he explained. They had talked about this, yes, but it didn't take the weight of guilt off Serena's shoulders. She couldn't push away that image of the knife in her hands, or the movement of it plunging into Henrik's body with no control.

"Regardless of who put you here," she said, "I want to be here for you, alright? I want you to rely on someone for a change. A bit rich coming from me, I know, but I mean it," she insisted. She took his hand and she saw him smile when he looked at the way her hand fitted in his. "I'm sorry for all this," she added, unable to stop feeling as if she was totally responsible for his current condition.

"If you apologise one more time," he warned her, "I will make a miraculous recovery and I will throttle you. Do you understand me?"

She let out a short laugh and nodded. "I'm going to have to go home soon. I have to explain to Eleanor what's going on."

"I've never been able to picture you as a mother," he said thoughtfully. "You don't show the maternal instinct that Chrissie Levy does, or the protectiveness Connie Beachaump did," he explained. Serena had never met Connie Beachaump, but she was, by all accounts, a formidable opponent, a committed surgeon and a protective mother. "Perhaps you are just experienced at compartmentalising your life. I'm sure you've had plenty of practice."

"The same goes for you," she replied. "You must have a lot of experience at separating your life."

"I don't have a life to compartmentalise," he admitted with a wry smile. "Though it seems you are determined to give me one."

"I don't think you've ever met Eleanor, have you?" Serena realised. Ric and Chantelle had met her under unpleasant circumstances, and observed appalling behaviour on Eleanor's part, but she was sure Henrik had never met her.

"No, I can't say I have," he said.

"Yeah, well, when you do, you may want to strangle her with your drip," Serena grinned. "She's your typical know-it-all teenager who really knows very little, but I tend to humour her if it will give me a moment's peace."

"You're making me question if meeting her is a good idea," he warned her, but he was smirking. "I'm sure it will be fine, Serena. How bad can she really be?"

"Half the time I want to string her up, but I do love her," she assured him. "I'm not a brilliant mother to her, and sometimes I wonder if she'll ever let me forget that, but I try my best for her."

"I'm sure you're a good mother," he replied. She just smiled quietly to herself, resisting the urge to tell him just how much Eleanor tended to rebel against her mother when she'd had enough of being pushed aside and told to study. Blazing rows, walk outs and going over to a friend's place to get drunk were among her daughter's favourite ways to remind Serena she existed.

Chantelle knocked and came in, wearing a bright smile. She did Henrik's obs and said, "Everything seems alright, but I'm sure you already knew that."

"Thank you, Nurse Lane," Henrik replied.

"Buzz if you need anything," she said before she left them to it.

"How can one woman be so cheerful?" he asked Serena when Chantelle left, as if it was a legitimate scientific mystery. "I swear you could hang her and she'd die smiling."

"Now now, Henrik," Serena replied. "Let's not get any ideas."

"You know, my first encounter with Chantelle was rather disastrous," he revealed. "She almost accused me of being a rapist."

"Are you serious?" she asked, fighting the desire to giggles at the image of Hanssen's expression in a situation like that.

"Deadly serious."

Serena just burst out laughing, whole-heartedly believing that Chantelle was capable of putting her foot in her mouth in such a way. She was a lovely girl, bless her, but she really didn't think sometimes.

"You love her really," Serena accused lightly. "Everyone loves Chantelle."

"I admit she's grown on me," he said. "Much like you, she's an acquired taste to me."

"Except she tastes like sugar and I probably taste awful," Serena replied quickly.

She stood up and lightly kissed his lips, smiling as she did so. She never knew she was capable of smiling so much in such a horrible situation, but that was what he'd done to her. He made her laugh and smile when she was convinced she should have been lurking in a corner, saying nothing. She could feel him smile against her lips, and she knew he was comfortable with this now. She thought that maybe, just maybe, his near death experience had reminded him just what mattered the most.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please do feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: It's Mother's Day, well, it was, so I thought I'd be a sap and add this chapter. I apologise. And thank you yet again for all the nice reviews!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena sighed when she finally arrived home at six o'clock that night. To her surprise, she could smell home cooking right through the house, though she was unable to place the scent; she hadn't had a home cooked meal in a _long_ time. She took off her shoes and padded barefoot through to the kitchen, amazed that Eleanor was standing over a pot of macaroni cheese and had sliced ham from a roast joint on two plates.

"What's all this?" Serena asked when Eleanor turned to see who'd come into the kitchen.

"Your friend, Michael?" Eleanor asked, probably unsure of who she'd spoken to. "American guy, anyway. He phoned ahead and told me you haven't eaten properly in three days," she explained. "You do know you constantly nag me for skipping meals?" she scolded.

"Michael," Serena sighed. "Remind me to go down to AAU and hang him by the ankles tomorrow."

"Stop it, Mum," Eleanor ordered. "He only did it because he cares about you," she said as she spooned macaroni cheese onto the plates, pouring wine into glasses. Serena glared at her for taking the liberty of allowing herself alcohol without asking first. "Don't give me that look. By what your friend says, we're both going to need it."

"Oh, really?" she raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "And how as Michael crossed the line this time?" Eleanor gave her a hesitant look, as if she didn't want to say anything in the knowledge of her mum's temperamental nature. "Come on. Out with it."

As they sat down to eat, Eleanor finally answered. "He wasn't very clear. He just said something happened at the hospital and you're not taking it very well," she explained. "Come on, Mum. You're the strongest person I know, but you look like you've been crying. You never cry."

"Henrik Hanssen," Serena finally sighed, taking a sip of wine.

"Your boss?" she replied, clearly surprised. "The tall, gloomy, intelligent Swede you blatantly fancy the pants off of?" she added, her interest picking up. She was sitting straighter as she smiled into her wine glass. Serena knew letting her drink was a bad idea; she tended to come out of her box when she was under the influence of alcohol.

"Eleanor!" Serena exclaimed. "Whatever gave you that idea?!" she demanded, but she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. If it was obvious before, it probably was now.

Eleanor just started laughing, and had to control herself before answering, "The way you go on about him, you'd think he was the Grim Reaper. You don't normally exaggerate like that. You didn't exaggerate about Mr. Griffin or Chantelle Lane, and I doubt you've exaggerated about Michael from what he was like on the phone," she added. "You exaggerated on Hanssen because you were trying to convince me you hate him."

This was the annoying thing about Eleanor. She was a short-sighted, superficial bratty teenager most of the time, but her logic when it came to her mother was basic and unflappable. It irritated Serena to no end that she got nothing past her daughter. "Yeah, well," Serena said, finally regaining the ability to speak. "I ended up kissing him the other day. Then the next day I pushed him across AAU. And then kissed him again," she confessed, inwardly cringing at the triumphant look on her daughter's smug face.

"I knew it!" she grinned, slamming her hand on the table jubilantly. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem," Serena began, dreading this discussion, "is that I almost killed him." Eleanor looked rather shocked, so she continued, "Henrik and I were called to a situation on Darwin with Jonny Maconie and the brother of his terminally ill patient. He, the brother, he took me, Jonny and Henrik hostage and pulled out a knife," she said. "He was a manual worker, very strong, so it took three of us to get it off him. Henrik and Jonny took an arm each," she recalled, "and I pulled the knife out of his hands, but it slipped and...and I ended up accidentally stabbing Henrik."

"What?!" Eleanor shouted in surprise, almost choking on her pasta. "Is he alright? Are you alright? Oh, my God! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because I knew you'd react like this and storm off to the hospital," Serena sighed, taking a bite of her food. "He's going to be fine. I will be fine. I always am, alright?" she smiled. "But I was wondering, since you're free tomorrow, would you like to go and see him? He wants to meet you."

"Bet you've told him I'm a spoilt little brat with an attitude problem," Eleanor said sourly.

"No," she snapped. "Look, I can see this putting him out of his mind a little bit. And I'd like you to get to know him," she admitted.

"You're serious about him, aren't you?" Eleanor started to realise. "If he hadn't landed in a hospital bed the other day, he would've landed in _your_ bed," she smirked. "There's more to what you feel about that man than just sex," she added, pointing her fork at her mother in an annoyingly smug, all-knowing fashion.

"Don't be so crude, Ellie," Serena retorted. Why, why did her daughter have to be so bluntly honest? "I love you, darling, but you do come away with the most undignified things."

"Just saying it like it is," she grinned into her glass once more. "And yes, I will go and meet your Henrik."

"He's not _my_ Henrik," Serena replied, rather too quickly.

"Is."

"Isn't."  
"Is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

Serena just smiled and rolled her eyes, knowing this was one argument she would not win, since her daughter was probably not mistaken about how she felt about Henrik Hanssen.

As she finally began to fall asleep that night, at around midnight, she couldn't help wishing Henrik was in bed with her. Even though she'd never shared a bed with him, she felt rather lonely. After all, they'd spent two days together, pretty much alone. Even if Henrik had been unconscious for most of that time, he'd been with her.

What had she got herself into? She could remember their encounters with more detail now she knew she hadn't killed him; she could remember the first time he kissed her – it was to stop her string of insults. She remembered how she'd thrown him off and then launched herself at him, and how her body had sunk into his with such a strange effortlessness as he'd pushed her against his door, kissing her with more passion than she'd ever seen him display. She could remember the way his hands had pressed into her waist as she'd pulled herself up closer to his insane height. She recalled telling him it was wrong, even though she _really_ didn't care.

Then she'd lost her temper when he'd displayed distrust in her, and how hurt she'd been that he felt the need to watch over her constantly. Her hands on his chest, pushing him again and again. Their eyes locked together, and how she'd been unable to tear her gaze away from him when Michael hauled them into his office.

She'd lost her cool with him again, hadn't she? She pushed him. Shouted at him and shoved him until his back had been against the wall. She analysed that next split second in great detail. Her anger and frustration had morphed into a mixture of desire, heat and, though it was the one thing she hadn't been able to place at the time, love. Had she really allowed herself to fall in love with Henrik Hanssen when he let her pin him to the wall, his hands sliding to her hips as she kissed him relentlessly?

She was brought back to the darkness of her lonely bedroom when she heard movement across the landing from Eleanor's bedroom. She heard the door open and close. Serena realised suddenly that she'd left her bedroom door open when Eleanor suddenly appeared before her. "I see you can't sleep either," she smiled.

Eleanor walked around the bed to the other side and climbed in next to her mother. It was rare that Serena ever got to share this bond with her daughter. Serena felt Eleanor snuggle up close to her, and she put her arms around the girl's skinny body. "See what happens when you fall in love?" Eleanor said sleepily.

"I haven't fallen in love," she replied almost mockingly, not entirely sure whether or not that was a lie.

"You have. I can see it a mile off, Mum," she said gently. "I don't mind, you know. I always thought Dad could be a bit of a tosser anyway."

Serena chuckled and grinned into Eleanor's hair. "I do worry that bringing another man into this household would upset you."

"We'd eat any man alive if he stepped out of line," she answered. "Who in their right mind would mess with us? Provided we're both sober, of course," she added cheekily. "I know I drive you mad, Mum," she said unexpectedly. "I don't mean to. It just feels like you ignore me sometimes. All you ever seem to do is work."

"If that's the case, you'll be pleased to hear I laid down the law to that idiot Cunningham and took four weeks' personal leave then, won't you?" Serena smiled.

"Are you serious?"

"Uh-huh."

"I love you, Mum," she assured her. Serena felt a lump forming in her throat. It wasn't often she heard those words from her daughter, and it wasn't often she said them herself. But she found she'd been saying the a lot more recently. Had Henrik actually given her the capacity to express love? Had he shocked her into being able to show it?

"I love you, too, darling."

"I know." There was a few seconds silence before Eleanor spoke again. "You love Henrik, too, don't you?"

"My God!" Serena exclaimed exasperatedly. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"Like mother like daughter," she retorted, and Serena couldn't even deny her that one. She knew she'd instilled some of her unfortunate traits into her daughter, and one of them was to keep digging until she found an answer. It was the one she most often regretted. "Admit it. You love him, don't you?"

Serena swallowed her pride and replied, "Yes. Yes, I love him."

"Knew it," Eleanor said, her voice slurred with tiredness.

"Yes, you win," Serena said, trying to sound bored so Eleanor would give this up already. "Now get some sleep."

She felt Eleanor wriggle slightly, trying to get more comfortable. How long had it been since she'd shared anything so affectionate with her own daughter? Years, most definitely. The girl's body relaxed against hers and it wasn't long before Serena heard a groggy, "'Night, Mum. Love you."

"Love you too," she replied with a smile. When she was sure she was asleep, Serena recited in a soft whisper what she used to say at bedtime Eleanor was a child, "The day is done; the night has come; dream of happiness; yet to come; goodnight, my darling; may the stars guide you through the night; may your dreams be happy and the stars within reach."

She finally allowed herself to stop analysing and fall asleep contently with her daughter in her arms.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So, I'm sorry for this. Thank you for all the nice reviews, too :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

"Take that Physics homework with you!" Serena called up the stairs after Eleanor as she packed a bag with spare clothes as a precaution, just in case she fell asleep at the hospital again. She knew Eleanor would take any chance to skin out of the dreaded Physics homework, and she intended to keep one step ahead of her darling daughter, even when she was mentally exhausted.

"I'll do it when I get home!" she called back, and Serena heard her spit as she brushed her teeth. They'd overslept. Well, Eleanor had. Serena had woke at six o'clock but didn't have the heart to wake her daughter on a Saturday morning. She'd let her sleep, still in her arms, until she woke herself at around nine. She'd pretended she'd slept in too. The three hours of silence had been spent thinking about the past and the future, wondering what could become of her, Eleanor and Henrik in all of this.

"No, you'll do it at the hospital!" she shouted after her. "You'll bored out of your skull anyway. You might as well have something worth doing."

"Fine!" she heard a grumble as the bathroom door opened and shut, and the thump of books being thrown sulkily into a bag. Serena suppressed a smile; her girl could be so predictable at times. Eleanor appeared at the foot of the stairs by the time Serena stood up straight. "You know this guy's going to hate me, don't you?" Eleanor said as she lifted the bag for her mother.

"Nonsense," Serena replied. "He doesn't openly hate people, anyway. He keeps it to himself rather than start conflict."

"Hanssen and Serena up a tree-" Eleanor began in a sing-song voice, until Serena halted her with a glare.

They'd been with Hanssen for an hour and a half, just talking, until Eleanor slammed her books down in temper. "I don't see how that idiot teacher expects me to do this when he hasn't even explained it properly!" she announced.

"Eleanor, don't be childish," Serena scolded, glancing at Hanssen, slightly embarrassed by her daughter's outburst.

"Well, it's true! He says one thing and the book says another!" she argued. "It's ridiculous!"

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Hanssen asked, much to Serena's amazement. "Perhaps I could explain it better, if your teacher is incompetent?" Eleanor handed him the book and the question paper, and Serena watched in silence as he quickly scanned both to see what was meant to be done.

"I don't get Newton's third law," Eleanor confessed. "How does that work?"

"When a force is exerted on object A by object B," Henrik began, "object A exerts an equal and opposite force on B."

"I get that," she replied. "I just don't understand how it's used in practical terms."

"How do you think the ground withstands the force of you walking on it?" he asked her, and Serena watched silently as a sick man took on the role of Physics teacher to her teenage daughter. How odd he could be. "When your foot hits it, it effectively pushes against you," he explained. "Raise your hand," he ordered her. She did so and he put his hand against hers. "If my hand is object A, and yours is object B, how do we keep our hands from moving if I push your hand?" He pushed her hand, and Serena could tell she was instinctively pushing against him.

Serena smiled to herself as a look of revelation spread upon the girl's face. "Equal and opposite force!" she exclaimed happily. "Why couldn't my moron of a teacher just show me this?!" She took her hand back, scribbling something down in her exercise book. "So would an example be, I don't know...the road pushing a force against the car tyres and the tyres pushing down on the road with the same force, and that keeps the car on the road?"

"Precisely," Henrik said.

"Right," she said, scribbling that down. Serena looked on in wonder; how could a man so cold and antisocial and yet also be such a brilliant teacher and so patient with someone who made her want to tear her own hair out half the time? He was a marvel to her. She hadn't realised she was openly smiling until she met Henrik's eyes and he gave her a small, oddly comfortable, smile back. "You know these equations of motion questions?" she asked.

"Ellie, Henrik's meant to be resting, not doing your homework for you," Serena intervened, worried she might overstretch him; after all, it had barely been two days since he'd been stabbed and his body still wasn't quite stable.

"It's fine, Serena," he quickly replied. "I enjoy Physics. And there's nothing more satisfying than teaching," he told her. She just shook her head and smiled to herself. He really was something else. Lying in a hospital bed, just had major surgery after major trauma, and there he was teaching Newton's third law to her daughter. "What's the problem?"

"Well, you know all these questions about footballs and stuff dropping from a height?" she asked. He nodded and she continued, "There's no value for acceleration, so I can't work it out."

"There is," he contradicted her. "What's the gravitational field strength of this planet?"

"Nine point eight Newtons per kilogram," she immediately answered.

"If you drop something, it's going to be pulled by that gravitational field, correct?"

"Yes."

"It will accelerate at the value of the force pulling it," he explained to her.

"So it accelerates at nine point eight metres per second squared?" she asked. "This one's a keeper, Mum!" she proclaimed happily, picking up her question paper and starting on the problems she was given to solve.

"I'm sorry," Serena mouthed to Henrik, squirming uncomfortably in her chair at Eleanor's over-excited behaviour. She took his hand, their fingers intertwined, as Eleanor started tapping at her calculator. He just smiled and shook his head, silently telling her not to worry. "Eleanor," she said, "why hasn't your teacher explained these things? They're the basic principles."

"Because he's a total moron, Mum," she said, not taking her eyes off the paper. "Honestly. He doesn't control the boys, and he constantly contradicts himself. There's no point in me even being in that class, really."

"Do you want me to discuss it with the headmaster?"

"No point. He must know that the whole class is going to fail the exam," she shrugged. "I'll teach myself if I have to."

"I'll teach you," Henrik offered. "I'm more than experienced enough to help you pass your exam."

Serena didn't know what to say; he'd basically just offered to tutor her daughter from his hospital bed. Eleanor's reaction said it all. She jumped up with a huge grin and exclaimed, "Thank you!" and pulled Henrik into a hug.

"Eleanor!" Serena told her daughter off for what felt like the hundredth time today. Henrik's hand cautiously reached around girl, rubbing her back gently. Did he actually just return a hug?! "You'd better not be going soft on me," Serena warned in a low mutter. She wasn't happy about this. He was meant to be resting.

"Near death experiences tend to change one's attitude," he reminded her. "I think it's about time I started being a little more approachable, don't you? I am, allegedly, frightening."

Serena just sniggered to herself, knowing she was in no position to comment. After all, half the people in this place were terrified of her, and she knew it. His hand felt stronger in hers than yesterday; she brought their joined hands up to her face, kissing the back of his hand with a smile. "I'm just going to get coffee, alright?" she said. "Do either of you want anything?"

They both shook their heads, so she got to her feet, briefly kissing Henrik and patted Eleanor's arm. She left them to it, smiling in the doorway when she glanced back to see Henrik begin to explain something in the textbook to Eleanor. He just couldn't help himself, could he? Same old Hanssen.

She found she was grinning as she strolled through Keller and down the stairs, more relaxed than she'd been in a long time. She was very lucky here, she realised. He was good with her daughter – better than she ever dreamed he would be – and he was becoming slightly less fearsome. And she loved him. She couldn't believe that she'd spent all this time irritated with him only to find she had fallen for him at the same time. It was the most twisted thing she'd ever experienced.

She went to the coffee stand, counting out money in her hand. Suddenly, she felt a sharp poking sensation on each side of her ribs; it made her jump, leaving her body feeling odd. She turned and immediately cried, "Michael!"

"Rena!" he replied, blatantly mocking her. He received a glare for using her _other name_ so loudly in the hospital, but it didn't wipe that self-assured grin off his face.

"Honestly, what is the need?" she asked. "Don't answer that. I'm sure you'll find some childish excuse."

"Well, I did have a present for you, but I'm not sure you deserve it anymore," he told her petulantly. She made a face at him, not really in the mood for his immaturity. Regardless of his announcement that she was undeserving of his kindness, he pulled an envelope out of his back pocket.

She smiled, slightly confused. "What's this?" she asked, taking it from him.

"On AAU, we decided you were too stressed," he explained as she opened the envelope to find gift vouchers for a spa. "You and your daughter can go and pamper yourselves when you get the time. They're valid until next year sometime, I think," he added.

Serena was openly grinning, as she read the bits of paper. She'd forgotten how thoughtful Michael could be; he was the closest thing to a proper friend she had when she was on AAU, bar Chrissie. He'd understood she never wanted to be there, and that she didn't want to fight him. She pulled him down into a tight cuddle. "Thank you," she said.

"No problem," he replied. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulled it out. Eleanor. "Hello?" she asked.

"Mum," she said, and Serena could hear her voice thick with tears. Oh, no. "I don't know what's happened. Henrik, he went all funny and the machines started going and Ric and Chantelle came in and took him to theatre and-" she rambled until her mother cut her off.

"Calm down, Ellie," she said, pulling herself away from Michael. "Start from the top. What did Ric say?"

"Something about a bleed? Or was it something about acute something or other? I don't know!" Eleanor said. "It all happened so fast!"

"It's OK, darling," she reassured her. "I'm coming."

"Hurry," she said, and Serena hung up the phone.

"What's up?" Michael asked, his tone genuinely concerned.

"Henrik's been taken into theatre," she told him, not giving him time to reply before running to the stairs to be with her daughter. What had gone wrong? He'd seemed fine. He'd been _happy_. He had helped Eleanor, making Serena move him more than ever. And now he was in theatre?! What the hell had happened? She'd only been gone ten minutes, at the most.

She burst onto Keller, rounding on the first doctor she could find – Malick. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded, her voice deadly.

"There was a bleed they didn't catch," Malick said. "He was a mess, so there was always the risk of a slow bleed," he reminded her. "Ric thinks it might be his liver."

"OK," she said slowly, taking it in that it was no-one's fault; if anything, it was hers for stabbing him in the first place. "How bad?"

"We got him before he lost consciousness," Malick allowed. "Eleanor called for help as soon as he started deteriorating."

"Where is she?"

"Mum!" she heard from the door of Henrik's room. "Is he going to be OK?"

"He'll be fine," Serena said, but she shared a darkly sceptical look with Malick as she pulled the girl into her arms.

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
****Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!  
****Sarah x**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I got a little bit stuck with this chapter so I opted for a little bit of light-heartedness as well as the obvious issue of Hanssen being in theatre again. So I hope it works. And thank you again to every one of you who have left reviews :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

"I hope he's OK," Eleanor said for what felt, to Serena, like the millionth time.

"He's got Ric and Jac operating on him again," Serena replied. "He'll be fine." She said this to reassure herself as much as her daughter. Being a surgeon, she knew he was being handled by two of the best surgeons in the country – one of the most talented in Jac and one of the most experienced and calm in Ric – but being the worried...whatever she was to Henrik...she was still scaring herself silly, picturing what would happen if, actually, he didn't make it through this procedure. There was only so much torment the human body could tolerate, after all.

"Are you staying here overnight?" Serena vaguely heard her daughter ask, but couldn't make enough sense of the question to give an answer. "Mum?"

"Hmm?" Serena finally turned her head to see Eleanor.

"Are you staying here tonight?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I think I'd better nick the on-call room for the night. You don't mind, do you?" she added, worried Eleanor may see it as favouring Henrik over her. She could be immature that way sometimes.

"Of course not," she smiled. "Do you want your pyjamas?"

Serena burst out laughing at the thought. "And give this lot any more ammunition?! I think not, darling," she smiled.

"I'll get you a onesie," the girl threatened.

"Don't you dare," Serena retorted with a crippling glare Eleanor was almost immune to when she was trying to cheer her mum up.

"Mum, seriously, you can't keep sleeping in your clothes. I'll go and get your pyjamas, alright?" she said, standing up, smoothing her top over her flat stomach. "Don't worry," she added, leaning down to kiss her mother's cheek. "I won't take the cream satin nightdress. Or the thick ones with the puppies. I can be trusted not to embarrass you."

"Why do those words make me very nervous?"

"Because you know me," she grinned. With that, Eleanor walked away, leaving Serena to ponder recent events yet again. The fear and guilt had sneaked up on her once more, and she couldn't stop herself feeling responsible again. She felt like crying; she'd trusted, however naïvely, that the worst was over and Henrik wad going to be fine. But reality and her hopes being polar opposite, of course that wasn't the case.

She was hoping she would have been able to exonerate herself of her own wrongdoing, but instead she found herself tortured again.

She felt Chantelle sit next to her, handing her the coffee she'd not managed to buy earlier. "You know he'll be alright, don't you?" the young blonde asked gently.

"I'd be praying to God if I wasn't such a cynic," Serena admitted, taking the coffee from the nurse. "What have I done?" she asked, standing up. Her hands in her hair as she internally berated herself, she demanded of no-one in particular, "What have I done to him?"

"_You_ haven't done anything wrong," Chantelle asserted, with more authority than Serena had expected. She met Chantelle's bright blue eyes and had to remind herself she was meant to be the older woman with control over herself. She suddenly felt herself being smothered by a suffocating cuddle, courtesy of Chantelle Lane. The girl's arms so tight around her reminded her that there were people who cared for her here, regardless of how badly she tended to treat them at times.

Serena smiled slightly and returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Chantelle's small body. Then she spotted Henrik being wheeled back onto the ward and her heart skipped – he'd survived again. He was stronger than she'd given him credit for.

Chantelle let go of Serena and they went to see Jac, who was watching the nurses carefully as she always did, never actually trusting any of her staff as far as she could kick them. "Serena," Jac said, her lips turned up into as much of a smile as anyone ever got out of Jac Naylor. "We think we got the last of the bleeds now. I had a feeling this might happen; there was always a huge chance of a small bleed no-one would notice until he collapsed. But it was lucky your daughter shouted when she did, or saving the Swede's skinny arse might've been a lot more problematic," she added with a small wink.

Serena grinned, both amused by Jac's remark and relieved she was able to say it. "Thank you."

"You know," Jac began thoughtfully. "That would've killed other people. Maybe, in his subconscious, he's fighting to live where others wouldn't. Maybe his mind knows there's something worth fighting for," she said, and Serena was slightly taken aback by the wisdom coming from the infamously cynical and pessimistic red-headed consultant. "If he turns soft on us, I'll hold you personally responsible. Only Sahira Shah got to him, and she generally just made him more difficult."

Serena laughed, "He won't get a chance to turn soft."

"Maybe just a little bit softer would be OK," Jac allowed. "Just don't make him a wimp."

"Henrik Hanssen, a wimp?" Serena grinned. "What planet are you on, woman?"

"Surrounded by this lot, sometimes I wonder that myself," Jac replied. "He'll be fine, I think. Just don't let him do too much. And don't let him work. Let Cunningham suck it up and deal with it, properly for a change."

"Yes, Mum," Serena retorted childishly. "I think he might just accept he's not going to work for a while, actually."

"Just don't let him off with _anything_," Jac surmised. "See you later."

As the younger woman walked away, Serena had a sudden thought that came when she thought about Henrik not working. "Jac!" she called after her, catching her up as she turned back around. "What _actually_ happened in Sweden?"

"I don't think that's for me to say," Jac sighed honestly, though apologetically, like she knew Serena was asking for the right reasons this time. "He'll tell you what happened in his own time."

"And he told you what went on?"

"A little bit. I read most of it in old newspapers when I was researching, but I put two and two together and got the right answer. I really think you ought to ask Hanssen this yourself. It would be better coming from him," she said sincerely.

"Thanks anyway," Serena smiled and Jac nodded, walking away once more. Serena went to Henrik's room and sat next to him, taking his hand into hers. What _had_ happened in Sweden? All she'd got out of Jac was that Hanssen judgement had to be trusted and it would all work out in the end if they left him to it. All she'd got out of Hanssen was _personal matters to attend to_, much to her annoyance when he arrived back out of the blue in _her_ theatre, operating on _her_ patient, with _her_ job title.

She wondered where this man came from, what his history was. Who his parents were. What his childhood had been like. Where he grew up. The people he had loved. Childhood friendships. Playground enemies. Whether he'd been a nice child or a little tearaway.

Whether he'd fallen in love before. Whether he trusted love was a real emotion and not a figment of the imagination. Whether he'd fallen in love with her the same way she tripped over herself falling for him.

The man lying in that hospital bed had once been a child, she remembered. He'd been a teenager. A young man. Learned the same hard lessons as everyone else. Forced to grow up at some point, just like everyone else. Made to see that life wasn't straightforward as "make a choice and head going."

When Chantelle came in to do his chart nearly an hour later, she smiled knowingly down at Serena, as though she was telling her everything was working out. And she had a point: Henrik was alive and didn't hate her, and he and Eleanor seemed to get on like a house on fire.

The door opened half an hour later and Eleanor stepped in with a carry bag and a smiled when she saw Hanssen was out of theatre. "How is he?" she asked, taking the chair on his other side.

"Jac thinks he'll be fine now," Serena said. "Just one of those things. It's not uncommon, really."

"Good," Eleanor sighed, placing the bag on the floor. "It's good to see you happy," she commented without warning.

"Yes, Ellie, I stabbed a man, thought he was OK, then he got hauled back into theatre," Serena bit back sarcastically. "I'm deliriously happy with myself."

"Now now. No need for that," Eleanor replied contently. "You know what I mean. Once he's awake and up and about, you'll be happy, Mum. I promise. You'll be happy because you love him, and I see how he's been looking at you."

Just then, Henrik began to stir and Serena's immediate reaction was to stand over him, her hand on his cheek. "Henrik, everything's alright," she assured him when she saw confusion wash over his face. "There was a slow bleed they didn't catch the first time." He nodded and she leaned down to gently kiss him, not telling him she'd been terrified of losing him.

Henrik slowly turned to see Eleanor, who said smugly, "I saved your life, apparently."

"Ellie," Serena warned.

Henrik looked back up at Serena and reminded her, "She has a valid point. She did raise the alarm before I died from internal bleeding."

"Don't encourage her, Henrik," she groaned.

Eleanor piped up, "Do you mind if I stay with Gabby tonight? She wants to go to the cinema and I kind of said I would come as soon as I knew Henrik was OK."

"_Kind of_?" Serena challenged. "Either you said it or you didn't."

"Well, yeah, I did say it, but I didn't think you'd mind," Eleanor defended herself.

"Of course you can," Serena smiled, knowing it wasn't fair to stay at the hospital and expect her daughter to spend yet another night on her own. "Take some money from the jar, but don't you dare get drunk. I _will_ know about it if you do," she vowed, remembering her tendency to have a few too many drinks. Thankfully, she'd not touched drugs since that night last summer, but she still, on occasion, crossed the line when it came to drinking.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Eleanor smiled, standing up. "See you tomorrow," she said, leaning over the bed to kiss her mother's cheek. "Don't die on us now," she added to Henrik. "Mum might actually lose what's left of her mind."

"Beat it," Serena glared, slightly playfully, at her daughter, who sauntered off with a cheeky smile. Serena immediately went to see what was in the bag and, to her embarrassment, pulled out a lilac vest top and a pair of pyjama bottoms, fleecy black with rabbits all over them. "I'm going to kill her," she muttered.

"Why?" Henrik asked interestedly, looking to see what was going on. She held up her pyjama bottoms, and Hanssen sniggered.

"When I allowed my darling daughter to take my pyjamas in, I was expecting her to choose a pair that gave me a fighting chance of retaining my dignity," she said dryly, but she couldn't help smiling. After all, wasn't it better to laugh about these things?

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Again, I didn't know where to with this, but I hope it works. Thank you again to everyone who's read and reviewed**.

**Sarah x**

* * *

"Henrik," Serena sighed, breaking the content and yet tired silence. She glanced up at the clock, seeing it was quite late already. Time had flown by after he'd returned to her. "Henrik, what happened in Sweden? And don't just give the _personal matters_ speech, because I'd gathered that much myself, funnily enough."

"It's none of your concern," he replied, closing his eyes. "I can promise you it will never affect you or your daughter."

"But it affects _you_," she reminded him, taking his hand. Why was he such a closed, unresponsive person? Why could _nobody_ get through to him?

"It doesn't," he contradicted her.

"You said you made some bad decisions," she persisted, but she saw that dangerous glint in his eyes warning her she was trying his patience. But she was not scared of him, only of losing him. "You said you'd been selfish. What did you mean?"

"I meant nothing," he retorted, his voice turning icier the more she pushed him. "If it ever concerns you, which it won't, I will tell you."

"What is it with you?!" she demanded, and, though she was trying to stay calm to keep him at ease, she felt frustration bubbling up inside her. "You have this insane need to protect yourself from people who don't even want to hurt you!"

"I am many things, Serena," he said, "but I am not insane. Not yet, at least."

"Then stop acting it!" she spat. Why was he so infuriating? Every time she thought she was getting somewhere with him, just when he was letting her in and softening up, he pushed her out again.

He pulled his hand from her grasp and glared at her for her concern; the most annoying thing was that she was truly concerned. There had been something in Jac's voice when she was in Sweden that suggested this was deeply personal for Henrik. When Jac had said to trust his judgement, she'd known there was more to it than him simply blocking a company. That something else was happening and he was trying to work out the right thing to do.

She wondered if he had worked it out, and done the right thing. Provided, of course, there was an action that could have been considered as _right_. "Do you know what?" she finally said, holding the cold glare he was giving her. "I don't even know why I'm trying. But let me explain something to you, Henrik. One thing. I'm not asking because I want to get at you, or because I want something to blackmail you with. I'm not prying for gossip. I ask because, for whatever mad reason, I care about you."

He didn't say anything; he looked slightly surprised at her outburst, actually. She sighed, her hand going through her hair as she decided to leave it for tonight. She was too exhausted for a full-blown argument. "I'm going to bed," she informed him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replied stonily.

She shook her head, picked up her bag and left, closing the door lightly behind her. She went into the on-call room and locked the door, glad to change out of her clothes and into something far more comfortable. She pulled her vest top on, glad to be free of the constraints of her sleeves. Her slightly embarrassing pyjama bottoms were of less concern to her now that she was alone. She sat on the bed, folding her clothes into a neat pile before putting them in the bag with her shoes.

There was a light knock at the door and she called, "Come in!"

The door rattled and she heard a familiar drawling voice reply, "I'd love to, but you've locked the door."

She groaned as she got to her feet and clicked the lock, opening the door to reveal her endearingly arrogant American friend looking down at her in the absence of her shoes. "What do you want, Michael?"

"Nice PJs," he commented before he asked, "Can I come in?" She rolled her eyes and stepped aside for him, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed. She sat next to him, waiting for him to speak, fidgeting with her fingers. "You OK?"

"I'm fine," she replied, not looking at him. He knew her too well; he knew when she was lying, and he knew when she was holding back. If she looked at him, he was going to see what had just happened between her and Hanssen had actually upset her. She didn't know why it upset her so much – maybe because she obviously didn't mean that much to him. If he was unwilling to tell her the truth, then he had to think she couldn't be trusted, or that she wasn't worth explaining it to. And _that_ stung.

"You're not," he replied, ending the slightly awkward pause. "Have baby Rena and the big man just had their first domestic already?" he asked in a slightly amusing voice, like he was speaking to a child. She glared at him for it, but inwardly she smiled, knowing that was what he wanted. "Thought so. I remember mine and Annalese's first domestic," he reminisced fondly. "She tipped my dinner over my head."

Serena looked up at him, expecting a mocking smile on his face but he was deadly serious. "Really?" she asked, rather surprised. He raised an eyebrow at her, confirming it, and she had to start laughing. "What was it? Curry? Casserole?"

"Spaghetti bolognese," he replied. She fell backwards laughing at the image of his reportedly beautiful, blonde ex-wife pouring a plate of spaghetti bolognese over his head. She couldn't help it. "Yeah, yeah," he drawled. "Hilarious."

"It is," she laughed. He fell back to lie next to her and she managed to reign in her amusement, but she could almost feel the atmosphere turn more serious again.

"It'll be alright in the morning," he assured her. "Unless, of course, you're like me and you slept with someone other than the person you're meant to be with."

"I can assure you I am nothing like you," she grinned at the ceiling. "I actually think. Usually," she allowed, remembering the one thing she hadn't done when she let Henrik Hanssen press her into his office door was think. She'd initially pushed him away, but then something unknown to her had taken over and she'd felt her body and emotions take over as she had pulled him close to her.

"Thought not," he said. He looked at his watch and added, "It's ten o'clock and you've had a rough day. Better get some sleep."

"Yeah," she sighed as they both stood up. She pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed, hoping she would be able to sleep. She felt Michael pulled the duvet up to her face, and she smiled like a child into the blanket. For the biggest idiot she knew, he really was nicer than people credited him for.

He ruffled her hair lightly, receiving an amused glare for it, and walked away to the door. He switched the light off. "'Night, Rena," he said; she could virtually hear the smirk in his voice as he said it.

"Goodnight, Michael," she replied, her tone deadpan. He closed the door and she closed her eyes, hoping she was going to fall asleep soon; the problem was she kept going over everything in her mind. She _had_ to know who Henrik really was, underneath everything he left everyone else see. But he wouldn't let her in, and she hated it.

She felt she had perhaps been a little heavy handed with him, but she'd been so frustrated by him. It had been like trying to get blood out of a stone.

She turned onto her back, staring into nothing but darkness. What was she meant to do with him? What _could_ she do with a man who was so obviously blocking her out? He was the same man she'd confronted in his office, and in Michael's office. He was the same cold, arrogant, emotionally crippled man she'd idiotically fallen for.

And yet, it wasn't even that that bothered her. It was the idea that he didn't trust her with his past. She could understand that she'd given him plenty of reasons not to trust her, but she was trying her best to be there for him.

"This is no good," she moaned to herself. She got out of bed and walked through the ward to his room, opening the door quietly. "Are you still awake?" she asked gently.

"Yes," he replied, opening his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she began, closing the door. "I'm sorry for pushing you so hard. I'm sorry if I've made you feel like you can't trust me."

He looked round at her and she could've sworn there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. He started to move and she immediately said, "No, Henrik, don't! You'll pull your stitches!" He didn't listen, and she was left wondering what he was doing. He'd moved towards one side of the bed, and she just watched him, very confused. Then he beckoned her with his hand and she realised he was vacating half the bed for her. She smiled softly and got on the bed, her arm resting gently across his chest.

She buried her head into the side of his chest; what had come over him? They'd just fallen out, and now he wanted her in his bed. She felt very disconcerted by the sudden change as he lifted an arm to loosely put it around her shoulders. Despite the confusion, though, she was happy. Happy he'd seen her for what she was. She wasn't untrustworthy. Not when it came to him and his past.

"Your daughter said something to me today," he said, out of nowhere, squeezing her shoulders gently.

"Oh, God," she groaned.

"When I began to deteriorate, she was in the middle of telling me something you said as you fell asleep last night," he revealed. "Something about the way you're feeling?"

Oh, no. She wasn't doing this. She wasn't telling him what she'd said about how she felt about him. She wasn't even sure what she meant to him yet. She wasn't even sure she meant anything at all to him. So she remained silent. The other option was to make a total fool out of herself.

"Only I collapsed before she could tell me exactly how you feel," he added. Serena sighed, finding she was both relieved and slightly fearful – relieved that he didn't know yet, and fearful because she knew she was going to have to spit it out sooner or later. "So?" he asked.

"You do realise you just refused to tell me anything, don't you?" she challenged him gently. "You can't seriously expect me to spill my guts when you won't tell me a single thing about who you are."

"I can," he retorted confidently.

"No, Henrik, you can't," she answered, keeping her voice firm and yet making sure he knew she cared.

"You know," he started, "we're not so different. We're both strict, and probably too big for our boots at times. We're both impassive, and we both are a little too cold-hearted. But there's one massive difference between you and me, Serena."

"What's that?"

"I'm a coward, and you are not."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Firstly, thank you for all your kind reviews :) and second, I'd like to thank hadrians77 for helping me with some ideas - I was distracted and couldn't work out what way to go with this.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena felt Hanssen move next to her, his body warmer than she'd ever expected it to be. He exuded such iciness, such a lack of feeling, that it was too easy to forget he was a living, breathing, passionate being.

He was sleeping, and she was careful not to disturb him as she looked up to see his calm face. She saw now why she felt so strongly for him. He pretended he needed nobody, but she could see now he wanted nothing more or less than someone who actually loved him. And maybe he didn't know it yet, but he'd stumbled across that person the second he showed her he was not made of stone. That his heart was real and beating.

And yet, despite how she _knew_ she felt, and what her daughter had forced her to confront, she was scared to tell him. Scared because she thought he was so closed and defensive that it would make him walk away. But she felt compelled to tell him nonetheless.

"I don't know what you've done to me," she whispered. "I don't know why I feel the way I do about you. You're the most frustratingly arrogant, cold, dictatorial, pedantic, selfish, self-loathing, emotionally closed, brilliantly intelligent, hilariously sarcastic, caring, backwardly kind, compassionate, fearless, protective..." she trailed away. When did her string of insults – the one she knew by heart – become a list of his best qualities?

She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating against her palm. "Eleanor made me see something last night. She made me see that I've been an idiot," she sighed, squinting slightly to make sure he was still sleeping. "She pointed out that I exaggerated your Draconian side to make the world and myself believe that's what I really thought of you."

She wrapped an arm around his front, and continued, "I don't think that of you. I don't hate you. I don't even dislike you." she stretched herself up and whispered into his ear, "I _love_ you."

"You have done something to me, Henrik Hanssen," she added in a low tone. "You've sent my head spinning, and you've made me really feel for the first time in a long time. I love you," she murmured once more, resting her head on the pillow next to his. She closed her eyes with more ease than last night, only because she knew now he was out of immediate danger. She'd still had no answers out of him. He'd still told her nothing at all about Sweden or about his past.

But she felt close to him, like he was letting her in slowly. She wouldn't have been lying there next to him if he wasn't.

She cuddled into him, glad she could still do so after his two scares. "I love you," she asserted one last time before she closed her eyes, letting herself begin to fall asleep next to Henrik, her face buried into his short hair. This was what she was here for. This was who she'd fallen for, rightly or wrongly, and there was nothing she could do about it. No amount of denial or ignorance would change that, no matter how much the prospect terrified her.

* * *

The light woke Serena up the next morning, and she discovered Henrik had done to her what she had done to Eleanor – he'd lay next to her, perfectly awake, allowing her to sleep in his arms. "How're you feeling?" was Serena's immediate question.

"Considering my body is now functioning without bleeds and ripped organs," Henrik said, "much better. At least I can think straight today. I did not appreciate the clouded feeling in my head yesterday."

"You were teaching Eleanor Physics yesterday," Serena reminded him. He just glanced around at her and she sighed, "You're too good at hiding these things. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wasn't sure whether it was the drugs or something less innocent," he reasoned. "I do not like to cause undue panic."

"Idiot," she moaned, though she did so with a smile as she turned her whole body to face his. "Why didn't you just say something? If not to me, then to Chantelle, or Malick?" she argued, getting rather uptight. She felt herself surprised when his hand touched her leg, like he was trying to calm her a little. He let it rest there, and it was all she could do to smile at him, wondering what was going through his complex mind.

She felt rather tired and stiff, but she was very aware of his strong hand resting on her thigh. Flashes of the time he'd let his hand slip to her hips came back to her for some reason, and she remembered her sudden self-consciousness, not wanting to confess she was uneasy about it. She felt the same self-awareness now, very conscious of their proximity. Conscious that she felt so differently now.

He kissed her gently, and she brought her hand up to the back of his head, letting herself relax into him. He didn't seem to realise that she was giving him everything she was. All the good, all the bad and all the ugly was his.

It felt different to kiss him now. It wasn't the product of anger or sheer passion or anxiety. It was her actually loving him. She felt something was growing inside her, and that maybe he was right for her. After the trials of divorce, she was, though she was accomplished at charming people into her way of thinking, wary of feeling anything so strong as this again.

She pulled back and gave a short chuckle. "I need to get changed," she reminded him, her voice hoarse. "Preferably before Malick can mock me for my choice in pyjamas."

"I think they're rather lovely," he said. "It proves Serena Campbell has a softer side."

"That's what _you_ think," she retorted, an evil grin appearing on her lips. "I'm sure my daughter and ex-husband would disagree," she added before she could stop herself. What was she thinking? She _never_ spoke about her ex-husband.

"He wouldn't have married you if he hadn't seen a gentleness in you," he said, clearly trying to be reasonable.

"Hmm," she murmured, not committing herself to any opinion for fear of saying too much. Her marriage was not somewhere she liked to dwell unless it was totally necessary. "Do you want me to go round to your place and get you some of the essentials?"

"Yes, that would be wise, thank you," he said. "I hate to admit it, but I fear I may be here quite a while. Long enough to drive my staff mad, anyway," he added as he handed her the key. Hanssen being OCD-ridden Hanssen, of course, there was an address on the keyring.

"Don't talk rubbish," she smiled, though she had to admit she could see Ric and Malick's patience being tested, though Chantelle's patience seemed endlessly elastic. And Digby had been too much of a coward to come anywhere near the room so far. "I'd better go," she said. "I'll see you soon," she added, getting off the bed gently. She pressed a kiss onto his forehead before she left.

* * *

She unlocked his door and stepped in, looked down the hall. Everything, as she'd expected, was neat and tidy. Almost pedantically so. She smirked, knowing that this was the representation of him; there were times when she found her house was as messed up as her mind was.

She went upstairs, to his bedroom, finding it was bare of anything truly personal. No photos of any description, nothing that could possibly be of any sentiment to him. She went into his drawers, pulling out navy blue pyjamas and underwear. She looked around, wondering where she could find a book or something to keep him occupied. If he was to mentally survive a stint in hospital – if she, Chantelle, Jac, Malick and Ric were going to refrain from killing him themselves – he was going to need something to keep his mind active, and it had to be non-work related.

She opened drawer after empty drawer in his bedside cabinet, finding she was wondering why it was even there until she reached the bottom drawer. It was full of documents, including things like his birth certificate and passport, and it was out of morbid curiosity that she sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor.

The moral part of her knew she was wrong to rifle through his personal papers; she'd done something similar before and he'd not been at all happy about it. But she was curious to know what was there. It seemed his whole life could be kept in a single drawer, and it unnerved her slightly.

Birth certificate. One name caught her eye – Anders Lövborg. Wasn't he the owner of that bio-tech company Hanssen had been blocking? Was this why he retreated to Sweden for two months? What had happened between him and his father? And why had he chosen to take his mother's name? She noticed that Elisabeth Hanssen had been Danish, too. A half-Swedish, half-Danish man with a posh English accent. Did this man have any real roots?!

Shaking her head lightly, she placed the birth certificate aside. His passport was mundane, so she put it aside too. Next came references from his previous jobs, all, predictably, glowing. She read them all, noting how many described him as polite, confident and extremely capable, and a couple making a point of his reserved nature.

There were two death certificates next – one for his mother, dated a good few decades ago, and one for his father, dated this past January. While Henrik had been in Sweden. His dad had died when he'd been there. So he had no parents.

There was a legal document passing ownership of the company from Anders to Henrik, as she'd guessed there would be.

Next there was a legal document, partially in English and partially in Swedish, involving the transfer of the same bio-tech company from Henrik Hanssen to a Nils Johansson, dated February of this year. The man Jac had been in contact with in Sweden. So something must've happened over there if Henrik had taken ownership of the company. What she couldn't understand was why he'd so swiftly given it to this man.

What she found at the bottom of the drawer was what she'd not been expecting. A single, hand-written envelope. Feeling extremely guilty, she picked it up, noticing how feminine the writing was. The postmark was dated from January of this year, and there was what seemed to be a Swedish postmark too.

She opened it, annoyed to find her hands were shaking. As she'd expected, it was all in Swedish. She recognised his name, and her eyes immediately dropped to the bottom of the letter, seeing it was from a woman name Maja. She scanned the letter for anything that was obviously a name, and found _Nils_ and _Fredrick_. Nils again? What was going on?

She was tempted to type it up into a translator, but she felt it was a step too far. It was in Swedish for a reason, she felt, and if she didn't understand what was written then it wasn't her place to investigate it.

"Maja," she whispered, not sure if she'd said it right. "What the bloody hell did you get up to when you were in Sweden?" she sighed to nobody in particular, putting her head in her hands, her elbows leaning on her thighs.

So this involved Henrik's father, this woman, these other two men, one of whom had control of a company that had changed hands twice in the space of a few weeks.

Deciding not to investigate any more than this, she put everything back the was she'd found it, guilt and remorse eating at her for looking through his things. She stood up and hastily found what he was going to need and got out of there as soon as she could, before she could succumb to the temptation of investigating what she'd found, forcing herself to go against her suspicious nature. She was consciously choosing to take Jac's advice and let him tell her in his own time. For once, she was choosing to respect his privacy, realising there was a reason he so obviously hated to talk about his past.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So this turned into a bit of a row, which I hadn't intended, but domestics are always quite fun to write so I don't mind ;) and thank you to all my lovely reviewers - love you all lots :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena entered Henrik's room to find Jac Naylor and Antoine Malick standing side by side, stony faced and strict. She could only guess Hanssen had overstepped the mark already. "You cannot go trying to get out of bed," Jac said sternly. "You've not even gone twenty-four hours since your last procedure, for God's sake."

"I will do what I feel capable of," Henrik argued, and Serena put his bag on the cabinet, sighing inwardly. She'd known he'd be like this, just not so quickly. Obviously his tether was not as long as she'd hoped.

"Mr. Hanssen," Malick began, and Serena could tell from his level voice that he was trying to be diplomatic. This was the _good cop bad cop_ act, and Jac was bad cop and Malick appeared to be trying his hand in the role of good cop for a change. "Miss Naylor has a valid point. Don't you think you should be resting up?"

"No, I do not," he said firmly. "If I feel capable of doing something, I will do it."

"And what happens when you over-estimate yourself and end up back in theatre?!" Jac demanded. "Stop being so stupid!"

"That is enough, Miss Naylor," he retorted, his eyes taking on that steely glint once more. "I should not need to remind you that I am still your boss."

"You're also our patient," Malick replied fairly. "You're our responsibility, Mr. Hanssen. You're under _our_ care, so if anything happens to you, it's on our conscience. So, please, can you just try and take it easy?"

Malick sternly met Henrik's eyes while Jac shifted her weight impatiently. "Look, you have two options," the redhead pointed out. "You either sit tight and recover or you start pushing yourself before you're ready and you end up in theatre again. I've saved you twice. Another time might be asking too much," she finished harshly.

"And I for one don't want to put up with Serena when you give yourself another internal injury when you fall out of bed," Malick said, obviously trying to defuse the situation with a little bit of humour., but Henrik wasn't so easily kept quiet. Many had tried, and all, as far as Serena know, had failed.

Jac looked at Serena, and it was clear in her bright blue eyes that she wasn't just kicking up a fuss for the sake of an argument; she was genuinely worried for Hanssen's welfare. It wasn't often genuine concern could be found anywhere in Jac, so Serena chose to take it seriously. After all, both women knew exactly what Henrik was capable of, and how moronically stubborn he could be.

She'd feared he was going to be an awkward patient – he was too guarded to say if he needed help, and definitely too proud to ask for it. It was his biggest flaw as well as one of his strengths. There was such a thing as being too independent, but she knew it was a lesson he was going to have to learn.

"Bottom line," Jac said, "you keep doing silly things like that and you'll end up having a serious accident."

"You see it all the time, Mr. Hanssen," Malick added. "Patients who think they're well enough to do things for themselves have falls and a tear stitches and all sorts. You need to _rest_, and you need to ask for help to do these things, just for a little while."

Henrik glared at him, though Serena could see in his eyes he knew Malick was right. "What actually happened?" Serena sighed.

"He decided it would be fun to rip his stitches, didn't you, Mr. Hanssen?" Jac replied sarcastically, shaking her head in annoyed disapproval at his stubbornness. "He said he was trying to get into your holdall for your book because he got _bored_."

"And you couldn't have asked a nurse for help?" Serena raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm fine," he insisted.

"Yes, until the next time my back is turned and you think you're bloody Superman!" Serena answered, her voicing rising out of a mixture of frustration and passionate care for the obstinate man before her. It was the man she fell in love with, free falling through every other emotion she'd been through until she hit that one. And, though she loved him, he could irritate her to death sometimes.

"Excuse me?" he replied, his voice deadly calm as usual, signalling her his anger. She caught an amused look on Jac's face, and even Malick was fighting back a smile. "At least I don't stick the knife in when someone's back is turned," he reminded her. That hurt. She didn't need reminded that she had crossed the line.

She was momentarily speechless at the venom in his tone until she managed to reply, "At least I don't disappear off the face of the planet to spend two months hiding in Sweden," before she even thought about saying it.

Jac and Malick looked shocked at the escalation, though both were rooted to the spot, unsure of whether it was safe to leave Serena and Hanssen alone in such bad tempers. She held his icy stare, part of her wondering why she was trying so hard with him. He kept pulling her in and pushing her out when she got too close. It was driving her mad.

"Why are you treating me like a child?" he demanded.

"Because you're acting like one!" she exclaimed. "Either that or your sense of self-preservation is totally and utterly shot."  
"Somehow, I don't think so," Jac muttered as she pushed her poker-straight hair behind her ear, earning a glare from Hanssen and a look of thanks from Serena. They both knew he was fully aware of how to protect himself, so it couldn't have been that. Which, of course, left the option of stupid pride.

"Serena, I can tell for myself what I can and cannot do," he asserted, and Serena felt herself getting riled with him now. "Really, what do you want me to do? Have Chantelle Lane wait on me hand and foot?"

"I want you to shove your stupid macho pride in a box and get the hell on with recovering, and that means not doing anything you know would hurt you!" she retorted.

He sat up a little straighter at this, wincing as he did so, and proving her point at the same time. "I am not a child, and I am not an invalid."

"This little dream world you're in must be lovely, Henrik, but I think you need a reality check," Serena snapped. "At this moment in time you are an invalid, you don't know your limits and if you are going to act like a child then you can only expect to be treated like one!"

"I am _not_ being a child!"

"You _are_!" she shouted, finally losing her cool. "Only a child is stubborn enough to do something so stupid!"

Jac and Malick were glancing at each other, clearly silently debating whether it was a good idea to step in; they seemed to have agreed that they would be wrong to leave them to it – they might have ended up murdering each other.

"Is there a reason you want me confined to a bed?" he demanded. "My job perhaps?"

"No!" she yelled. "I already said to you that I told Cunningham expressly where to go when he offered. Malick was there! He heard me, for crying out loud!" she added, gesturing towards Malick, who looked rather uncomfortable at being dragged into it. "I've already told you I'm not interested in that! I want you to get better, and you know how I feel about what happened, too, so don't you dare try and say anything about that!"

"Why would I even go there?" he replied, his voice now rising too. "What makes you think I would actually sink so low when I know you feel guilty already?!"

"Because you want to get at me!" she shouted.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Why not? You are!" she yelled, becoming more and more uptight. "Why can't you just bloody well behave yourself?!"

"Now who's being the child?" he asked. Her anger was boiling over now, and there were so many things she could have said to shut him up already, but nothing was safe enough. "I will do as I see fit, and I won't have you or anyone else set limits on me!"

"Not if it's going to get you hurt! If I think you're going beyond your limits, and if me or any other member of staff here think you are risking further injury, I am going to tell you to stop!" she replied, her voice louder and more forceful than ever before, her emotions getting the better of her. "Why are you being so idiotic about this?! You're a surgeon; you know what'll happen if you don't grow up and do what you're told!"

"I don't understand why it's such a massive concern for you!" he said. "You have a career, a daughter and a mother to think of; you have no room for me!"

Serena noticed Jac flinch ever so slightly at those words, though Serena had no idea why. The atmosphere was charged with an insane level of emotion as they tried to keep themselves in check, but Serena feared she was close to breaking as she argued, "Of course I have room for you!"

"Maybe now, but what about in a month's time? A year? Two? Five?!" he shouted. "Why should I trust that you won't cast me away once you inevitably become tired of my habits and attitude?!" he yelled, pointing at her accusingly, as if it had already been decided.

"I won't!" she yelled, so loud it hurt her throat. "What makes you think I would?!"

"Past experience!" he bellowed. She glanced at the monitor; his blood pressure had risen but not as much as she'd expected. He had a frustrating level of control that she was never going to be able to possess.

"Don't be an idiot, Henrik!" was all she could shout back. Her emotions were overcoming her; she was finding she had less and less control over what her brain was processing before it came out of her mouth. This could end in disaster, she realised, but he wasn't going to simply back down for her, regardless of the state of his body. His mind, annoyingly, was still functioning at it's normal brilliant standard.

"Go on!" he yelled, his voice booming in the small room. "Just give me a reason to trust you! After all you've done, after taking my job, hacking my email, sending Jac after me, and after going against everything I believe in, tell me why I should-"

"Because I love you!" she cut across him, her voice louder and more ferocious than it had ever been in her life before. Silence fell onto the room, Jac and Malick looking shocked, Hanssen lost for words. "Because I love you," she whispered.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to write; yet again, I could work out which way to take it, and, yet again, I may have opted for the cushy route. Thank you to my lovely reviewers - I love you all! :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

"Get out of _that_ one," she heard Malick mutter, and she took her stare from Henrik only to shoot the registrar an icy glare. It was a glare she return to Henrik, bypassing Jac only because she, surprisingly, hadn't said anything yet.

"Obviously that particular word is lost on you, isn't it?" she said to Henrik, not even caring that Malick and Jac could hear everything she was saying. "_Love_," she sneered. "You wouldn't recognise it if it jumped up and slapped you in the face," she added, and she couldn't believe she was being so awful to him. Her deep seated remorse didn't change the fact that she felt he needed some home truths about his lack of emotional awareness.

She didn't give him time to reply; she left before he could, stalking out of the room so she didn't start the argument up again. She only got as far as the Keller corridor, leaning against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

"That went well then," Jac's voice said next to her; she hadn't noticed her approaching, too lost in her own little world. "What are you going to do?"

"What _can_ I do?" Serena demanded, wiping her hands across her face. "He's emotionally crippled. He doesn't feel anything. Not for me, anyway," she confessed her fears and feelings about him.

"He does," Jac said. "He just doesn't know how to show it."

"Yeah, right," Serena snorted. He didn't know what it was to feel, never mind tell anyone else about it. She wasn't sure if it was frustration and anger clouding her judgement, but he seemed heartless to her now. What if she'd been wrong about him, and he was what most people believed him to be?

"Honestly," Jac insisted, rather urgently. "Look, I saw a different side to him in Sweden. He was vulnerable. He was being chased by something, and he was running from it as fast as he could. I think maybe he doesn't trust himself."

"I tried getting it out of him," Serena said. "He effectively told me to go to hell."

"And you expected anything different?" Jac challenged, gentler than Serena had expected. "If you love him enough, you'll wait for him to come to you. He's a tough nut to crack."

"And in the meantime?" Serena sighed. What was she meant to do until the world's most emotionally closed man opened up? Wait? The idea was laughable. She'd wait for eternity before that one put his heart on the line.

"And in the meantime, you love him the best you can," she replied. "He's infuriating, I know, but he's also...fragile. He's forgotten what it is to be loved. I can understand him better than most, but I've had a lucky break. He hasn't, until now. He just needs to realise you're good for him."

"Am I good for him, though?" she wondered. "He opens up and then pushes me away."

"He's just scared," Jac explained. "Maybe now he knows how you feel, he'll start to accept you. I can tell he wants you," she promised. "He's got a funny thing about him just now. He looks at you with _hope_. I've never seen that in him before."

"What idiot would actually want me anyway?" Serena gave a humourless laugh. "Cynical, bad tempered, manipulative, inconsiderate, sarcastic cow with a general attitude problem."

"Realistic, passionate, clever, impulsive, wickedly funny woman with a distinctive personality," Jac corrected her. Serena smiled; since when did Jac Naylor do _touchy-feely crap_, as Jac would probably have described this discussion? "Look, how are you ever going to know if you've never even tried?"

"And that's the approach to take, is it?" Serena asked. She didn't admit it, but she was frightened of what came next. Whether it was spilling her guts to him or leaving him alone, she was scared.

"Yep," Jac told her, brighter than she normally was. "It's the only approach that'll work with him." Serena felt Jac's hand around her wrist in a gesture of support so rare from the cold redhead. She smiled at the younger woman, trying to appear more confident than she felt. She had a nasty feeling she might have just shattered what little bond she'd built with Henrik. She'd said the wrong thing when he was at his most vulnerable, and she was almost certain "I love you" was at the bottom of the list of helpful things to say to him right now. Even if, shockingly, it was perfectly true.

"I can't go back in there," Serena whispered her cowardice to her friend. Jac smiled, almost knowingly, like she knew the feeling of nerves and fear she felt, but also the love that would eventually prevail over whatever else she was feeling. "He'll tell me to go away."

"Stop being a wimp and get in there," Jac ordered her. "Come on!" she groaned impatiently, dragging Serena by the arm to Hanssen's room. She resisted with all her strength but Jac managed to march her to the doorway against her will. "You are a strong-minded, confident, beautiful woman," Jac paid her an unexpected compliment. "And, for some mad reason, you're his match."

"Wish me luck," Serena sighed.

"You won't need it," replied Jac with a smirk. Serena opened the door, feeling a little more positive about the whole situation; she just hoped Jac knew what she was talking about. She stepped in to find Malick standing next to Henrik. Jac beckoned for Malick to leave them to it, closing the door behind him when he left.

She just sat down next to him. He said nothing, just staring at her with childlike interest. "I'm sorry," she said, unnerved to discover the power of speech had all but abandoned her; her voice was hoarse and rough, quieter than she wanted it to be. She cleared her throat and continued, "I'm sorry for shouting at you."

She leaned onto the bed and looked into his eyes, trying to see past the guard he had raised to protect him. "You wind me up," she told him gently. "You make me love you when I should hate you." She reached out for his hand, swallowing hard. "You confuse me. You know me too well. You make my judgement fall to pieces. And, my God, you don't half bloody irritate me sometimes," she smiled.

"Why do you subject yourself to the confusion and irritation and anxiety?" he asked curiously. "If I make you so uptight and so unsure, why don't you simply avoid me?"

Serena blinked, processing what he was asking her to explain, and burst out laughing. She couldn't help it; did he understand nothing about attraction and love? "I don't know," she finally replied, still grinning. "All I know is that you bring out everything in me. The good, the bad and the downright ugly. You bring out my awful temper, and you bring out my sense of humour. You bring out my independence and you bring out my loneliness. You bring out my stupid arrogance and you bring out my insecurities. You make me feel things I'd forgotten even existed. I'm confused as hell, worried that you're going to hurt yourself and wondering if I can make you love me, or feel anything at all for me," she explained, with more honesty than she'd used in a long, long time.

She'd already put her foot in her mouth. She figured she might as well just let it all go now that she had uttered the three forbidden words. Everything she was trying to tell him, all the emotions she was attempting to make him understand, led to the simply complicated fact that, somewhere along the line, she'd fallen in love with the man who made her world an increasingly difficult place to live. Not in a purely negative way, but she couldn't deny her head was more difficult to navigate now Henrik was in it.

He looked down, looking slightly embarrassed by her explanation. She was surprised when his hand moved, his eyes still averted, to her face; he looked _ashamed_. "Henrik," she murmured. She lifted his chin with her finger, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I don't know why. I don't know how. I don't know when it started. I just love you."

She touched his raised arm lightly, feeling his warm skin against hers. She leaned in and caught his lips in hers. The warmth and fear and love that spread through her was exhilarating. Even though she'd been honest, even though her feelings were known, she was still scared that, one way or another, she was going to lose him. So soon after finding him, there were a hundred and one ways he could have been taken from her.

She felt his lips start to move gently with hers, and smiled as she kissed him. His hand moved from her face to the back of her head, and she briefly opened one eye to glance at the monitor – his heart rate was increasing. He was relinquishing control to her. She let her hand wander, trying to find his, and when she finally found it, she locked her fingers in his.

She broke away from him, smiling like their argument had never happened. "For what it's worth," he said, "all those things you described, about what I bring to the surface in you, you're doing the same to me."

"So you're as lost as I am," she breathed to him.

"Probably even more so," he confessed. His eyes softened, and he surprised her by gently pulling her in by the head and kissed her, with a tiny bit more force than she'd done to him. Her head started spinning. For some reason, this felt more passionate than the time he'd slammed her into the door, or the time she'd backed him into the wall. It was heartfelt. He broke it off and said, "But I _think _that you may have changed me. You've stirred something in me I haven't felt for a long time."

"Good to know I have my uses," she grinned, her face mere inches from his.

"Oh, you have many uses, Serena Campbell," he told her. "One of which is reigning in my cantankerous tendencies."

"No more trying to get out of bed?" she asked. "No more trying to irritate me to death."

"I don't _try_ to irritate you," he denied, and she raised an eyebrow at her. "It's just one of my numerous natural talents," he added, a small smile cracking onto his lips. "No more," he agreed. "The pain was enough to put me off. Even my stubborn pride isn't worth repeating it."

"Yes, well, I'm glad to hear it," she grinned. She took his face into her hands and pressed a quick kiss onto his lips, and found she was smiling. He had the power to make her happy. He just didn't realise it yet.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to update. I had problems with how to do this chapter, and I still don't think I got it right but oh well :/ as always, thanks to everyone who has reviewed!**

**Sarah xxxx**

* * *

Serena was lying face down on the sofa, her face buried in cushions. What was she meant to do?! It was not in her nature to blindly follow someone. It made her uneasy, not knowing what he was hiding. She didn't like to think what was eating at him.

She loved him, yes, but she hated his guarded, stupid pride. It drove her mental.

"Mum?" Eleanor said, keeling down to see if her mother was still awake. Serena turned her head to look at her daughter. "You're still alive then."

"Hmm," Serena moaned. "Ellie, how do you force someone to tell you what's wrong?" she asked, finally ditching her own pride to ask her daughter for some advice. She looked puzzled, so Serena sighed and tried to explain herself. "Henrik went missing for two months last year. I electronically tracked him to Stockholm and sent Jac after him, and I can tell you he wasn't pleased, but it needed done. Something happened there, and Jac won't tell me. I need Henrik to tell me."

"Why? Why not just leave him be?" Eleanor asked, confused.

"Because he doesn't speak about anything. How can I help him if he won't open up?" she challenged.

"Maybe he doesn't want help."

"He said he'd been selfish. He's kicking himself, and I want to know why!" Serena exclaimed.

"You know he probably just thinks you're nosey," she replied with a smirk. "And he wouldn't be wrong. But you're usually nosey for the right reasons!" she quickly defended her words when she received a glare from her mother. "Ask him outright."

"I tried that. It didn't go down very well. The term "lead balloon" comes to mind," Serena sneered. "It's Henrik Hanssen," she stated, like it explained everything. "He doesn't talk unless he's forced to."

"That's your problem," Eleanor accused. "You use force to make people talk. Henrik won't respond to that. Does the phrase "softly-softly-catchy-monkey" mean _anything_ to you?!"

"Yes. And I don't have the patience for it anymore," Serena replied sternly. Eleanor hit her forehead off the arm of the sofa, moaning in despair at her mum's biggest personality flaws. "He's so annoying!" she whined, realising now just how childish she sounded. She felt Eleanor's hand on her arm as a comfort, and she thanked her lucky stars she had a daughter. Even though they didn't always get on – actually, they rarely ever got on – when they did get on, they were brilliant.

"Look, Mum," Eleanor sighed. "First of all, get a bloody grip."

"Language, young lady," Serena snapped.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and retorted, "Bloody's in the Bible; bloody's in the book – if you don't believe me, take a bloody look." Serena almost regretted teaching her that one as a child. "Anyway, it doesn't bother you when you swear."

"Remind me never to use sarcasm with a child ever again. You lot have memories like sponges," Serena groaned.

Eleanor smirked and repeated, "First, get a bloody grip. Second, keep calm and be _nice_. Third, ask sly little questions. Start with his favourite colour and stuff and then he'll get used to you, and he'll start opening up," she suggested. How could she have given birth to such an emotionally aware person when both Serena and her husband were two of the most emotionally unaware people on the planet? It was irritating. Useful, but irritating nonetheless.

* * *

By noon the next day, Serena found herself lying in bed with Henrik again. Since bucking up his ideas yesterday, his condition had improved and the painkillers were helping with the pain better now that he wasn't straining himself. He seemed to have accepted his fate and started concentrating on making a decent recovery.

Remembering Eleanor's advice, Serena broke the peaceful silence. "What's your favourite colour, Henrik?" she asked, looking up to see his confused expression. She smiled to herself and kissed his neck gently; she couldn't reach his lips.

"What?" he replied.

"Your favourite colour," she repeated. "What is it?"

"I've never really thought about it," he admitted. Serena snorted in amusement. Of course Henrik Hanssen didn't think of things as trivial as colours. "I like green," he said after a moment's consideration. "And blue. They're...calming." Serena resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. "What's yours?"

"Red," she replied instantly. "Red is passionate and brave," she explained. She felt Henrik kiss her hair lightly, and touch her cheek with his finger. "What's the saddest song you've ever heard?" she asked, hoping it wasn't a step too far.

"_How To Save a Life_," he answered. She looked up, surprised he would know that song.

"Why?"

"It's about losing someone to their demons, and not being able to save them," he explained, more honestly than she had expected of him. "It's the worst feeling in the world, and that song is the way it is put into words." She looked into his eyes, and saw he was in pain that had nothing to do with his physical state. "What about you?"

"_For The Love of a Daughter_," she replied. "It's so desperate and real and raw..." she elaborated. She didn't have the words to explain the way it made her feel. The first time she heard it when her music account got mixed up with Eleanor's, it had actually brought her to tears. She saw the situation every day as a doctor, and yet to see it from the child's point of view was heartbreaking for her. "What makes you laugh?"

"Nurse Lane," he immediately replied. Serena took it in for a moment, and burst out laughing into his chest. "The thought of Jac Naylor being nice. Actually, I tell a lie; she is capable of being nice," he added. "She was quite kind to me in-" he continued, but stopped himself short.

"Last girl you kissed on New Year's Eve?" she asked, changing the subject away from what was clearly Sweden.

"I haven't kissed a woman on New Year's Eve in over twenty-five years," he confessed, his tone unnervingly matter-of-fact.

"You _are_ kidding?!" she exclaimed. "Who wouldn't want an excuse to kiss you?" she demanded. He looked quite amused. "You still didn't answer the question."

"Maja," he said. "Maja was the last woman I kissed on New Year's Eve," he told her reluctantly. "She was my partner when I was younger. When I lived in Sweden."

Maja. So there was a connection, then. She had been his partner. "The biggest lie you've ever told?" she asked, hoping she hadn't scared him back into his shell yet. He seemed to be alright; a bit tense, perhaps, but she could tell he was trying to open up and tell her the things she wanted to know. Maybe Jac was right and him knowing she loved him had made him trust her with his heart.

"I told someone I didn't feel anything for them when I knew I did," he confessed. "I was a coward. I walked away without an explanation," he added. What was coming over him now, she didn't really know, but she was grateful.

"Oh, Henrik," she sighed. "What happened?"

She looked up, and she could see the battle going on behind those dark eyes; one one side, he probably didn't discuss his past with anyone because it was painful to think about, but on the other side, it was clear he wanted to tell her, but didn't know if she could take it.

"Maja was pregnant," he revealed. "I left before the boy was even born," he said, and she could hear that he was ashamed of his behaviour.

"So you have a son," she sighed. "Are you close?" she asked. Silence. She looked into his eyes. More silence. It was deafening. "Henrik?" she asked, his quietness worrying her now. "Henrik?"

"I know you will hate me for what I'm about to say," he said.

"I won't," she promised.

"I've never met him," he whispered. She suddenly felt so sorry for him, even though it was clear that selfish fear was the root of it. She hated that he didn't trust love enough to allow himself to stick around for his son. Someone had screwed him up. It had been obvious for a long time to her that someone had hurt him and coloured his judgement of the whole love and family idea; he was always so cynical and distrustful.

He was waiting for her reaction, and she didn't know how to react. As a mother, she couldn't understand how a parent could abandon a child, before they were even born. But as a human being, motherhood aside, she could understand that he was damaged, and probably didn't trust himself to be a father anyway.

She put her hand gently on the back of his head, and brought his face down to very gently kiss him. "I love you," she whispered. "Alright? I don't care if you're a coward, and messed up, and damaged. I knew what I was getting into." She kissed him again, hoping he could believe her. "The angriest letter you never sent?"

"Funnily enough, that one was to you," he smirked.

"Let me guess," she smiled gently. "You got my letter, wrote one back telling me to piss off and leave you alone but couldn't bring yourself to be so impolite?" she guessed.

"You know me too well," he smiled, kissing her lightly. She laughed into his lips, knowing that, while he was in Sweden, she must have driven him up the wall with her emails, phone calls, voicemails, text messages, letters, and not to mention having his emails hacked. Part of her had wanted answers. Part of her, a deep-seated part of her, just wanted him back and things to go back to normal. The toll his position had taken on her life, even she admitted, wasn't pleasant. It had strained her relationship with Eleanor beyond belief.

"The loneliest night you've ever spent?" she asked. She watched him consider whether or not to tell her the truth. She knew logic would win out and he would get it over with.

"The night my mother died," he eventually whispered, his voice broken. She watched his expression carefully, searching for a sign he was about to retreat back into his shell. "There must have been a dozen people in my house that night, but I still felt alone."

"What happened?"

"We lived by the water," he explained, and Serena had a horrible feeling she knew what was coming. "She put stones in her pockets, and walked into the water. She just kept walking, never looking back, until she drowned."

"She killed herself," Serena whispered. He'd been through more than she had thought. "Why?"

"Well," he began. "There are two stories. One I was told at sixteen, and one I was told in January, by Maja. The one I believed for far too long was that she committed suicide because my father, who went on to be the owner of a pharmaceutical company, betrayed her by using some scientific data obtained by the Nazis," he explained. She groaned inwardly, and felt tears sting her eyes. _And the plot thickens_, she thought. "I was informed that she had told him to use that information in the hope she and her brother would not have suffered in vain at the hands of the Nazis. The story I now know to be true is that, when my father went missing for three months, she believed him dead and found she simply could not live without him."

"Oh, darling," she moaned into his chest. It explained everything. It explained his reluctance to love and trust. And, two and two put together, she realised without asking why he went to Sweden last year. The company had been his father's. His father had been pestering him every week for a year with a deal, to which Henrik had consistently declined. It had never been about the money or the deal. It had been about a father and son.

"Have you finished your interrogation?" he asked her, his face in her hair. She nodded against his chest.

"You knew what I was up to?"

"Of course I did," he smiled into her hair. She looked up to see him smirking knowingly.

"And you played along anyway?"

"You love me. You deserve the truth," he admitted, kissing her gently.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


End file.
